Determinant
by Awahili
Summary: "In every moment of choice, you create a new destiny." One small change can have a big effect. A Jamie/Mitch rewrite of the entire series. Chapters 28-38 loaded 9/15.
1. First Blood - First Date

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 1: First Blood - First Date

 _After their initial meeting at the zoo, Mitch calls Jamie with a surprising request._

* * *

Jamie wove her way through the crowd of families that had flocked to the zoo that morning. She wondered how many of them had come out just because of the lion attacks. If she'd learned one thing in her time as a journalist, it was that tragedy drew more attention than triumph. The young twenty-something at the ticket kiosk waved enthusiastically as she left, but Jamie didn't feel up to returning her bright smile. She'd come to the Los Angeles Zoo looking for answers, but she'd left with more questions.

Jamie had arrived at the zoo upon opening, so she was parked fairly close to the entrance. Her phone rang as she was sliding into the driver's seat, and she answered without checking the caller ID.

"Jamie Campbell."

"Ms. Campbell, it's Mitch...uh, Doctor Morgan. From the zoo?" She could practically hear his cringe on the other line as he stuttered through his greeting. She felt the corner of her mouth kick up in a half smile.

"Yeah," she answered, "I remember you."

"Right, well…" he stammered for a bit longer, then she heard him blow out a long breath. "You said to call if something occurred to me."

"Yeah," she prompted.

"Well something occurred to me."

He was quickly wearing her patience thin, but she'd learned in just the short time they'd spent together that it was a quirk of his personality rather than a conscious effort to annoy her. She decided to humor him since he was possibly her best resource right now. Scratch that, she thought as she remembered she was somewhat less than employed right now. He was her only resource. "What is it?"

"I haven't eaten lunch yet," he rushed on, clearly relieved that she hadn't snapped at him. "And I'll wager you haven't either given your rather early arrival at the zoo."

"I thought you didn't like people?" Her heart was hammering in her chest despite her calm tone. She'd just ended her relationship with Ethan, and her position with the newspaper was all but terminated. The last thing she needed was to add another element to her suddenly complicated life.

"I'm willing to make an exception," he answered her teasing tone with one of his own. "My treat."

"Pizza and beer?" The words were out before she could stop them, and he huffed in amusement.

"If you want," he agreed. "I was thinking of a little burger place that's still somewhat unknown in these parts." When she didn't speak, his tone changed to a nervous stutter. "I mean...if this isn't a good time...I guess you might have to get back to work. I just thought…"

"No, it's fine," she interrupted his attempted backpedal with a shake of her head. "I can meet you there. What's the address?"

He was already there when she pulled up, and he lifted his hand in greeting as she stepped through the glass door into the tiny space. There were maybe ten tables scattered in a seemingly random pattern around the front area, and a long bar at the back that separated the dining area from the kitchen. The woods were paneled in dark vertical slats about halfway up the wall, and the plaster above it was covered nearly wall to wall with assorted pictures, knick knacks, and local sports paraphernalia. The bored woman slumped behind the register at the end of the bar perked up when Jamie entered.

"Hey," Mitch rose halfway from his chair as she sat down in an echo of chivalrous manners. He looked as uncomfortable with this whole thing as she was, and she offered him her best professional smile.

"Hi." She wondered what she had been thinking accepting his offer. She couldn't afford any distractions now, not when she had finally made some progress into exposing Reiden Global once and for all. Before she could make some excuse to leave or even turn this into some sort of follow-up interview, he leaned back in his chair and tapped the table with two fingers.

"I don't normally do this sort of thing."

"Eat lunch?" She was being purposefully vague, but she told herself it was retribution for his own equivocations.

He chuckled and tipped his head to acknowledge her score. "No," he said, "I mean ask someone I just met out to lunch. I don't even ask people I've known for years out to lunch."

"Then why did you?" Her general curiosity had been a mainstay of her childhood, always asking questions and trying to figure things out. Her uncle had said she'd either be a cop or a reporter. Her aversion to anything resembling blood or gore had solidified her place among the fourth estate.

"I don't know," he answered. "Call it a feeling, I guess." He paused as the woman from the counter came over and took their drink orders. Jamie asked for a water with lemon in contrast to his beer, and she quirked an eyebrow at him knowingly. "Not pizza," was his only reply. Then, in an annoyingly teasing tone, he fired back. "Why'd you say yes?"

"A feeling," she shrugged it off, but she wasn't fooling either of them. Deciding she was losing control fast, she redirected his attention to the business side of their earlier conversation. "So if it wasn't the food that made the lions go crazy, and since we both know things like this don't just happen, what do you think it was?"

"Honestly, I don't know." He sighed and ran his hand through his already disheveled hair. "That's the thing about science; something happens, we study it, then we find out why. It's methodical, orderly. That's why I like it."

The waitress deposited their drinks and took their orders - a cheeseburger for him, chicken salad for her - and dashed off to fill them. Jamie took a sip from her plastic cup before canting her head slightly. "There's a story there."

"Not one I'm willing to share," he retorted. "At least not yet. Trust me, nothing about my life is interesting enough for conversation over lunch. Maybe over drinks. Lots and lots of drinks."

It sounded a whole lot like an invitation, and Jamie gulped the last bit of water in mouth a little too fast. She coughed suddenly, patting her chest to clear her airway. His face flushed slightly as he seemed to realize how his words had been interpreted. Jamie offered him a wry smile and let him save face. "Maybe some other time, then."

Mitch seemed relieved by her olive branch and seized it with both hands. "What about you? Anything happening in your life that's interesting enough for a lunch chat?" The beer he'd gotten was an off brand she didn't recognize, and his fingers picked at the label between sips.

Truthfully, her past was a whole mess of interesting events that strung together to create the beautiful disaster that was her life. Deciding that topic was best saved for another time as well, she shook her head. "Not really," she told him. "Grew up in a very small town in Louisiana, graduated near the top of a class of thirty-three. Tried to get into Emerson and failed, so I ended up at Northwestern instead."

"It's not a bad school," he interjected.

"No," she shook her head, "and honestly I'm grateful for it. I would have been completely lost in New England. At least the Mid West was a little closer to home."

"Is your family still in Louisiana?"

"Yep," she nodded. She didn't elaborate; didn't tell him that her mother was dead or that her father had run out when he couldn't handle the stress of their life any more. That was too much to dump on him hours after they'd just met. She was saved from any further explanation by the arrival of their food. As they ate, their conversation turned to more mundane things. She found out more about his teaching position, and he asked her about life at the paper.

"Lots of tedium, mostly," she told him. "I spend most of my time filing requests for public records, calling people for interviews, planning future requests for public records, checking old requests, that sort of thing."

"Oh," he seemed genuinely surprised, and maybe a little disappointed. "I always pictured reporters as the in-your-face, chasing leads into dark alleys, never quit until you get that story sort."

She angled her glass at him in a mock salute before taking a drink. "I avoid dark alleys where at all possible, but other than that you've got me pinned pretty well."

"Given recent events, that's probably best." They silently toasted the dead by tapping the bottoms of their respective drinks together. "Speaking of stories, what's the deal with the missing cats in Brentwood?"

"It's probably nothing," she waved him off. "I went to Fremer's house to talk to him about the lion attacks and he told me that his daughter's cat was missing, along with a bunch of other cats in the neighborhood."

"You went to his house?" Mitch sounded impressed.

She shrugged one shoulder. "In-your-face, remember? Anything for the story."

He laughed then, a rich sound that filled the space around them. She wondered absently if it was supposed to be this way. Their conversations came easily, and she didn't feel as awkward as she had with Ethan during those first few dates.

 _Slow down, Campbell. Get it together_.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket loud enough for him to hear it. She was going to ignore it, but he nodded toward her resignedly. "I'm guessing your lunch break is over?"

It seemed as good a stopping point as any, and it would save them the embarrassing departure that would inevitably follow. She pulled her phone out and tried to keep her face from showing anything as she read Ethan's text. Apparently she was unsuccessful.

"That bad?"

"It's nothing," she shook her head and stood up. "Thank you for lunch. Dr. Morgan."

"Mitch," he prompted.

"Right, Mitch. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me." She gathered her bag and turned to leave when his hand reached out to grasp her forearm lightly.

"Listen, if anything else occurs to me…" he began. He seemed to take a breath to calm himself, and Jamie was reminded that she probably wasn't the only one feeling a bit weird about all of this. "Can I call?"

She knew very well what he was asking, and it had nothing to do with their earlier interview. She thought about Ethan, and about how he had shown his true colors today. They were done, that much she was sure about, but starting something new right now would be foolish. Still, she looked down at Mitch Morgan's scruffy hair and smudged glasses and his hopeful smile and she knew her answer.

"Sure."

* * *

This series began as a curious question in my head. What if Mitch and Jamie had actually hooked up during this episode? How would that affect the series? Then, I expanded it to every episode. Could I alter every episode to contain Mitch/Jamie, assuming each previous episode happened as written? I still haven't decided if I'm going to just keep going with this continuity and rewrite the entire series, or just alter each episode individually to get Mitch and Jamie together. If you have an opinion either way, please feel free to leave me a comment!


	2. Fight or Flight - Sympathetic Ear

Chapter 2: Fight or Flight - Sympathetic Ear

 _After their lunch date, Mitch and Jamie discover there's more to the lion attacks than they initially thought._

* * *

Mitch watched her slip into the back of the classroom without missing a beat in his lecture. She waited as he finished speaking, but the moment he dismissed his students Jamie was dashing forward eagerly. He'd never tell her, but seeing her sent a thrum of energy through him. He shook it off, berating himself for acting like a school boy, and began packing his things away. Making sure none of his students were within earshot, he only gave her a cursory glance as she stopped on the other side of the table.

"You know, I still want to cut myself every time I even think about having to explain to those Animal Control officers why we called them in a panic about a bunch of empty trees." He had meant it as a teasing joke, but Jamie was obviously too keyed up with whatever she'd found to notice. He sighed internally and half-listened as she laid out her findings. Their lunch yesterday had been pleasant enough, and it had been a long time since he'd felt interested enough in anyone to actually spend time socializing with them. Despite his nerves he thought it had gone well, but it looked like her interest was purely professional. She saw him as nothing more than a source she could exploit for her story, and he cursed mentally for thinking she'd felt anything more.

She was coming to the end of her rant about some chemical and pesticides, and the sour thoughts swirling in his head leaked into his tone. "This is all very riveting." He shouldered his bag and started to walk away, but she dropped the other proverbial shoe.

"Wait, there's more!" She seemed almost excited about the information she'd gathered, and despite his own castigation he couldn't help but think she was even more attractive when she was riled up. "Last month, L.A. County started using a similar pesticide to contain a rare mosquito outbreak. Want to guess where?"

"In honor of conspiracy nuts everywhere, I'm gonna guess Brentwood."

She lit up happily. "Yes! Brentwood!"

The mystery of the missing cats in Brentwood had piqued his interest. Despite needing to prepare lesson plans and get some actual rest, he'd gone out late last night to search for wayward felines. What he'd found had been enough of an excuse to text her. Their brief but memorable excursion had ended with an awkward conversation with a very confused Animal Control officer.

Still, he couldn't deny the puzzling mystery that was beginning to unfold here. His scientific mind was already running through possible hypotheses. And even though she hadn't shown much interest in him other than a sounding board and resource, he couldn't help but relish the idea of spending more time with her.

"Fine," he acquiesced, leading her up the shallow steps that elevated each row of seats to the back of the room. "Let's just say for a second - for a second - that you're right and that this chemical is causing the aberrant behavior. We could find out for sure by taking a closer look at the lions' brains."

"Great!" she seized his offer greedily. "Let's do it. Let's nail these bastards to the wall."

It wasn't the first time he'd suspected her interest in Reiden Global was something more than the villain in her environmental story. It was, however, the first time he'd seen something akin to desperation in her eyes.

"You are thoroughly obsessed with Reiden Global, aren't you?" He noticed her shift slightly under his scrutiny. "I mean in ways that go beyond just 'I hate corporations.'"

There was that pause again. He'd noticed it yesterday when he'd asked where she was from. His question had surprised him, too. Normally he would keep his head down and interact as little as possible, but something about Jamie Campbell had begged for a deeper connection. So he'd asked a seemingly harmless question, earning him an attempted deflection and a begrudging answer.

Her eyes darted down a bit, and he realized she knew she was being a bit too overbearing. "Yeah, I am." It was a simple answer to his question, and he knew she didn't want to talk about it. But he was inquisitive by nature.

"May I ask why?"

She seemed to find a well of strength, because she answered a bit faster and more assuredly. "Because of what they did to my hometown."

It was a vague answer that failed to satisfy. "What did they do to your hometown?" He had an inkling, of course, and her next words confirmed his suspicions.

"They murdered it." The pregnant pause that followed her declaration stretched on, and he knew she was waiting for him to brush off her rather dramatic answer. No doubt others had in the past.

He blew a breath out through his nose, and took another deep one before he spoke. "That sounds like a story that needs drinks."

"Lots and lots of drinks," her lips twitched in the imitation of a smile and he counted it as a win.

"I know a great bar that's not very crowded on a Thursday night if you've got time." He angled his body back toward the door, realizing that at some point he'd turned to face her at the top of the stairs. She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, and suddenly all of those voices that told him she wasn't interested in him fell silent.

"Why not? I've got nowhere to be right now." She shrugged one shoulder and stepped past him toward the door.

Relief flooded him and he fought the nerves off with a joke. "Just the thing a guy likes to hear after he asks a girl out."

Just like she had at the zoo, Jamie huffed slightly at his not-so-subtle comment and fired back. "Technically, you didn't ask me anything." She pushed through the door with a triumphant smile and Mitch felt his estimation of her rise ever so slightly. Jamie Campbell was proving to be a rather intriguing companion, and as he followed her to the parking garage he found himself looking forward to learning more about her. It was the first time he'd felt this way since -

Don't go there, Mitchell.

He shook those thoughts from his head quickly. Going down that road only led to disaster. Besides, he reminded himself, tonight was going to be spent listening to Jamie's story and seeing what he could do about seeing that smile again.

"Where are you parked?" he asked, glancing around at the smattering of vehicles in the guest parking lot.

"Uh," she shook her head, "I don't have a car."

Drinks and a ride home, he thought as he directed her toward his vehicle. This was shaping up to be a good night. "I'm over here."

They pulled up outside Tom Bergin's thirty minutes later. During the day it was a great lunch spot, but at night they reopened as an Irish pub. The wood bar sat in the center of the area, paneled in wood and warmed by the light of hanging sconces. True to his word, the place was nearly empty when they walked in and the bartender lifted an arm in greeting as they slid into a booth along the sidewall. An attractive college girl hurried over with a smile and two napkins.

"Hi! My name's Mandy. What can I get you?"

"Guinness," Mitch ordered right away, changing from his usual whiskey double. Jamie ordered a lager and a water, and Mandy dashed away to the bar with barely a nod. Mitch settled back and watched Jamie take in the scene. This was one of his favorite places, though no one here would know his name. He was always sure to come on random days and sit as far out of the way as he could manage. He recognized the bartender, but not the waitresses. That wasn't surprising though; he imagined the turnover in a city like L.A. was pretty high.

"You come here often?" Jamie interrupted his thoughts, and he realized she was staring at him.

"Often enough," he nodded.

"This on your way home?" He recognized an attempt to deflect the conversation away from herself - it was a technique he'd mastered years ago. She didn't want to talk about her hometown, or what had happened there. He was happy to go along with her until she felt more comfortable.

"No," he chuckled, "opposite direction, actually. I live in Venice. You?"

"Westlake," she told him, leaning back when Mandy deposited their drinks on the table.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked brightly.

Mitch raised his brow at Jamie in question. "You hungry?"

"No," Jamie shook her head quickly, which he interpreted as 'I don't want to inconvenience you.'

"Fried pickles," he looked up at Mandy with the most polite smile he could muster. Mandy winked at him and turned on her heel, leaving Mitch shaking his head at her eagerness. "Must be slow tonight." He waited a few beats, but when she didn't say anything he decided to push forward. "So," he took a sip from his bottle, encouraged when she did the same. "Reiden Global killed your hometown?"

"Yeah," she looked down at the table. She didn't give him anything else, and he wondered how many people had heard her story and dismissed it out of hand. She confirmed it with her next words. "I don't really like to talk about it with everyone."

"Hey," he leaned forward, "if you can't tell a practical stranger whom you just met yesterday, who can you tell?"

Her breath of amusement eased the tension from her shoulders, and she relaxed. "You ever heard of Folsom, Louisiana?" He shook his head, and her next huff of laughter was tinged dark with cynicism. "Not many people have. The last Census put the population around 700. About eighteen years ago, Reiden Global opened a factory on the outskirts, developing the chemicals that go into just about everything they make. It was good for the town, brought jobs and economy to a small agricultural town that was slowly dying in a technologically advancing world. Two years later, there was a huge spill. It ruined the soil, but the EPA didn't find any wrong-doing so they were issued a slap on the wrist and that was it." She took a long swig of her drink, draining about half of it in one go. When she set it back on the table, Mitch jumped with the force of it. "Then people started getting sick. My mom was one of the first ones. She was gone within a year, along with twenty-six others."

"Cancer clusters," Mitch said quietly, cursing his inability to offer any sort of comfort. He never was very good with people. Normally it didn't bother him, but seeing Jamie on the other side of the table obviously fighting tears made him itch to do something.

She didn't seem to notice his discomfort and nodded at his words. "We tried to make a case, but by then Reiden was this huge, monolithic super-corporation and we were just a bunch of sick farmers in a tidewater town."

"I'm sorry," he offered lamely. Mandy chose that moment to come back with his fried pickles, and Jamie turned away from her to discreetly wipe her eyes as Mitch thanked the young girl. He pushed the dish aside for the moment and concentrated on Jamie, who was beginning to gather herself again. "Listen, I'll do whatever I can to help. Tomorrow we'll take a look at the lion's brains. If they show signs of that chemical, we can start building a case."

The transformation was immediate. Her eyes shimmered again, but this time he read relief in her eyes. He wondered if he was the first person to ever actually believe her, to offer to help. She'd been carrying this burden for fifteen years, and for just a moment that burden was a little lighter. She smiled at him gratefully and reached across the table to grip his hand.

"Thank you." He held her hand greedily, soaking in the foreign touch. It had been so long since anyone had touched him intentionally that he'd forgotten the feeling. He liked it.

She pulled away after a few seconds, embarrassment written on her features. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and finished her drink. "Do you have any family? I never did ask."

He winced and drained his own beer. "Yeah, we're not close." He caught Mandy's eye and lifted two fingers to indicate another round. She nodded and busied herself as he turned back to Jamie. "As you can imagine, I'm an acquired taste."

"In the beginning," she agreed lightly. "In the end, though, you come through." Mandy dropped two full beers on their table and collected the empties. Mitch lifted his in salute, and Jamie tapped hers against it. They finished their second round and Jamie helped him with the fried pickles as they planned the next day.

"What time do you get off?" he asked her. "Or do you reporters keep odd hours?"

"Uh…" she swallowed thickly and glanced away from him. "Okay, confession time." She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his eyes. "I was fired yesterday morning. Before I came to see you."

His initial reaction was surprise and anger, but it faded quickly. He'd already heard her reasons for wanting Reiden Global hung out to dry. It wasn't a stretch to imagine her conveniently forgetting to mention that detail in an effort to find out more about the lion attacks and the possible connection to the company that had killed her mother. If her suspicions turned out to be correct, he couldn't blame her.

"So...the chances of me getting reimbursed by the paper for a working dinner are not good." His words had the desired effect.

She slumped in relief. "You're not mad at me?"

"Nah," he waved dismissively with his free hand. "Honestly, I'd probably do the same thing in your place. I can be...stubborn. At least that's what people tell me."

"We must talk to the same people," she said. "Listen, for what it's worth...I'm sorry."

"Tell you what," he finished his second beer and stood up. "You bring lunch tomorrow, we'll call it even."

Lunch turned out to be takeout from a Chinese place a few miles from the zoo. He met her outside the staff gate and let her in, walking the short distance to the hospital. His office was little more than a square closet tucked at the end of a long hallway. Most of the space was reserved for exam rooms designed to fit large animals, so office space was limited. A thin corner desk and two chairs were the only pieces of furniture in the room, and Mitch had to clear a pile of scrubs from one of the chairs to make room for her.

"Cozy," she glanced around curiously. It wasn't the tidiest of offices, but Mitch knew there were others on staff who were worse. His fastidious nature tended to keep his space more organized, but there was chaos among the order. A pair of dark blue rain boots were tossed in the corner in case he needed to trudge through particularly muddy habitats. A black jacket with the zoo's logo emblazoned on the front was hung from one shoulder on the back of the door. The files on his desk were neat, but there were more than a few half-empty water bottles and empty chip bags littering the space than he'd like. He cleared them embarrassingly as Jamie sat in the newly vacated chair.

"I'm honestly not in here a lot," he told her. "Most of my time is spent visiting barns and doing procedures in the exam room." He unpacked their lunch, humming in approval at her selection. Neither said anything as they ate, both eager to get on with their plan.

When they were finished, he walked her down the exam room they were in yesterday. He made his way to the large freezer on the far wall where they stored the animals' bodies between the necropsy and the disposal. "You're going to have to wear the -" He stopped mid-sentence and stared dumbfounded at the empty freezer. "Where are my lions?"

Now confused and a little frustrated, he grabbed the nearest phone and dialed the lion keepers. No one answered either time he tried, and he slammed the receiver down a bit harder than necessary.

"Come on." Jamie followed him out of the hospital and through a small gate that opened into the zoo proper. The hospital was located in the back of the zoo, so it didn't take too long to get to the lion exhibit and track down a keeper. Aspen Miller looked up from her observation of their remaining lions and smiled brightly.

"Mitchell, hi!"

Mitch sighed internally and steeled himself for her bubbly personality. "Aspen, this is Jamie Campbell from the _Telegraph_. She's doing a story on Nick and Eddie. I needed to confirm one of my tests, but they're not at the hospital."

Aspen frowned slightly and dusted off her cargo shorts before turning to walk away. Mitch fell into step beside her with Jamie just a pace behind as they passed the chimps. "I'm sorry," Aspen said finally, "but the lions aren't here. They've been destroyed."

"What, already?" Mitch knew that with the necropsies done, the zoo would likely destroy the remaining tissue to prevent contamination. He'd just thought they'd notify him first.

"Yeah, both corpses last night," Aspen kept her voice quiet to avoid startling any zoo visitors passing by.

Next to him, he felt Jamie stiffen. "On whose orders?" Mitch knew she was probably already spinning a theory in her head, but Aspen didn't seem to notice her tone.

"City Council?" the keeper answered. "Or maybe the zoo board, I'm not sure." Mitch turned to give Jamie his best not now look. She looked like she wanted to say something more, but wisely kept her thoughts to herself as Aspen continued unaware. "Are you still living in Venice, Mitchell?"

"Uh, yes," he ignored Jamie's inquiring eyes. "It's convenient to Westwood classes."

"I love it there."

"Tell me, Mitchell," Jamie interjected, "could we get the same results from a different lion that was fed here at the zoo? A live one?"

He knew where she was going, and he had promised to help her. But helping her meant asking a favor from Aspen. Jamie was going to owe him a lot more than lunch after this. "There are certain tests I could run that wouldn't be harmful," he confirmed.

"What's this about?" Aspen seemed curious now.

"To be honest, we're trying to get to the bottom of what happened with those lions the other day."

"There's a full investigation under way," Aspen nodded. "But I kind of think it's a waste of time. Every now and then lions just act...liony."

"Wow, did you two go to the same orientation seminar?" Jamie's voice was dripping with sarcasm. Thankfully, Aspen didn't seem to notice and he shot Jamie a warning glance.

"Just don't want it to happen again," he said hurriedly.

"Of course."

"Mitchell," Jamie cut in again, mimicking Aspen's use of his full name. She stopped them in the middle of the causeway, turning to face both him and Aspen as she spoke. "Do you think maybe it might be possible for Aspen to arrange for us to borrow a lion?" He'd been hoping she would ask so he wouldn't have to. He hid his grateful smile and tried to look as put out as possible.

"Sure," Aspen agreed right away. "Anything to help."

It was dark by the time Aspen dropped off one of the cubs. "The night keeper knows you have him, but he thinks you're doing his check up so you might wanna go ahead and get that done while you have him."

"Thanks," Mitch accepted the plastic carrier gently. "See you tomorrow." Aspen waved and got back into the white van, leaving Mitch holding a rather docile lion cub. "Come on, buddy."

Jamie was waiting in the exam room like he'd asked, but she perked up when he entered with the crate. She moved to help him but he shook his head.

"Stay back until I have him sedated. You're not covered under our insurance." She stopped but didn't retreat, clearly eager to see the young lion up close. Mitch had already prepared a syringe of the sedative, and he carefully injected the cub through the holes in the side of the carrier. He mewled once and jumped, but Mitch had already pulled the needle out.

"How long will that take to knock him out?" Jamie asked.

"Not long," he told her. He checked on the cub every few seconds as he readied the machine. It was normally used for the primates to check their brain function. This would be the first time he used it on a big cat. As he worked, he brought up something that had been on his mind since their meeting with Aspen. "Mitchell?"

Jamie's face scrunched up in confusion. "What?"

He chuckled under his breath. "Earlier, you called me Mitchell the entire time we were talking to Aspen."

"Oh," she she huffed, "I did that because of her."

"Uh huh," he was smiling now, and she scoffed.

"She's obviously into you. If I called you by a more familiar name she might have gotten defensive. In my experience, defensive people are less cooperative."

"Oh," he deflated a little as he pulled a tray of electrodes. He tried not to let her know how delighted he'd been at what he'd thought was jealousy. Her amused smile told he'd failed. "What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "Is he out?"

The cub was laying on his side breathing deeply. He opened the door to the carrier and tugged on the blanket beneath him. When he didn't move Mitch nodded. "Yeah." He reached in and lifted the animal from the carrier, indicating with his head for her to grab the towel. She laid it out on the table and he set the cub on it, never taking her eyes from the sleeping animal. "This your first time seeing one up close? Alive, I mean."

"Yeah," she breathed. Her hand lifted to stroke the fur almost automatically, but she halted her movement halfway and glanced at him in question.

"Go ahead," he nodded, and she pushed her fingers into the thick fur gently. He watched her for a moment and tried to remember if he'd been that fascinated the first time he'd encountered an animal other than traditional house pets. Her lips curved up slightly as she became more bold, running her finger down the cub's nose softly.

"He's amazing," she laughed. "How old is he?"

"About five months," he told her as he attached the colored electrodes to the cub's head. "It would have been better to shave him, but I didn't think to bring a razor." He grabbed the wires and handed them to her. "Alright, make yourself useful. Attach these to the electrodes. Red to red, yellow to yellow, and so on."

She took them almost hesitantly, but as he stepped back she set to her task. "Do they teach you this in vet school?"

"Nope," he checked the readings once more. "Med school."

"You went to med school, too?"

"I did," he told her. "But I gave it up when I realized that meant doing what doctors do; primarily dealing with people."

She blew out a breath through her teeth in a ghost of a laugh as she finished. The machinery emitted a sharp buzz as it began recording the readings and Jamie jumped back with a yelp.

"It works," he announced. "That was funny, by the way." She mimicked his smile with one of her own, though hers was laced with derision. He glanced down at the monitor, concern erasing whatever amusement was on his face.

"What's it saying?"

"It's uh…" he double-checked to make sure he was actually reading it correctly. "Spiking in the hyper-gamma frequencies."

"What's that mean?"

"I don't know," he stated evenly, "because lions brains don't have hyper-gamma frequencies."

It turned out not to be the craziest thing he said that night. As he flipped on his hallway light and tossed his keys into the tray on the bookshelf next to the door, he ran through the rest of the evening in his head. The moment he'd called Aspen to ask about redosing the cub he'd known something was wrong. He could hear the big cats howling on the other end of the line, and it seemed like the cub was responding to their calls. Jamie's theory that something had altered the animals' brain chemistry was looking more and more plausible.

As he readied for bed, he kept thinking about the lions and how they'd quieted immediately when they'd returned the cub to its mother. Jamie had looked at him with something akin to glee, though she'd hidden it well. He knew she was probably sitting at home right now going over everything and drawing red arrows directly back to Reiden Global. He turned out the lights, resolving to call her tomorrow and see what he could do about inserting some rational reasoning into her crusade.


	3. Silence of Cicadas - Quiet as the Grave

So many inconsistencies in this episode. First of all, the senate district that holds Folsom does not also have New Orleans, so Jamie's "Senator Vaughn is from my home district" is false if he is in New Orleans. Second, the senate building for Louisiana is in Baton Rouge, not New Orleans, unless they visited the district office, in which case that would be in Mandeville because Folsom is in District 11. Second, they would have to visit Baton Rouge to see the Senator anyway, as in late May/early June the Senate is in session. Third, their flight time is listed on the boarding pass as 5:30 pm, which would put them in New Orleans around 11:30 pm local time, yet when they arrive it's clearly daytime. Since this is my AU, I'm gonna just go ahead and fix all of this.

* * *

Jamie debated with herself for over an hour before she hit the send button. As the text jumped from the bottom of her phone into a bubble on her screen, she chewed her lip anxiously. She re-read the words again, hoping against hope that his promise to her yesterday wasn't an empty one.

 _I arranged a meeting with someone who can help us. Will you come with me? I know this is last minute._

It was still early - almost seven by her clock - but she knew he got up early to go the zoo. He'd mentioned the other day that he arrived by eight, so it wasn't a stretch to assume he was already awake. She paced the length of her living room four times before his reply came.

 _Sure, if I can fit it between zoo and class. What time?_

This was where she dropped the bomb. Her fingers typed quickly, hitting send before she could think better of it.

 _You might have to miss work. And class. Senator Vaughn is in Louisiana._

She could almost see the expression on his face right now, a mixture of confusion and shock. She'd seen it last night during their examination of the lion cub. She guessed there weren't a lot of things that genuinely confused him.

 _You want me to go to Louisiana with you? Today?_

She sank down onto her couch as she typed back. _If it helps, I've already gotten the tickets._ Doubt edged into her mind as she waited for his answer. It had been a rash decision made on very little sleep and way too much caffeine. She'd spent the entire night researching hyper-gamma frequencies, big cat communication, and just about anything else she could think of that might help. At three in the morning she'd compiled enough to fill a USB drive to the brim. The readings from the cub were also on there, safely backed up in a few other places.

Her phone rang shrilly in the silence of her apartment, and she yelped in surprise as she looked at the caller ID. It was Mitch.

"Hello?"

"Who is Senator Vaughn?" It wasn't an outright no but it wasn't a yes either. He was still deciding.

"Senator Robert Vaughn is from my home district and he's the head of the Environment and Public Works Committee. He's a good man, he'll listen to the evidence."

He mumbled a thank you to someone next to him, and Jamie heard the clatter of dishes over the line. He was getting breakfast. "We don't have anything close to solid evidence," he said finally.

"Are you kidding me?" her words tumbled out in a rush as her adrenaline overrode the exhaustion she felt. "We know those lions were communicating over large distances."

"That's not evidence, that's a theory," he corrected. "Yes, we have a mutation that seems to be producing a hive-like mind in lions - same kind that exists in bees, some kind of superorganism - but that's more crazy than anything else. And it's a hell of a long way off from pinning the blame on Reiden."

Jamie had been called a number of things in her time - brash, impetuous, driven - but never a quitter. Once she set her mind on something, she was going to follow it through to the end. The tickets were bought, the data had been collected. Now all she needed was a scientist to back them up.

"It's at least enough to get him to launch an investigation. And I would think that if there's even a _possibility_ that Reiden Global is turning lions into superorganisms, that would be a priority for you." She was standing now, having pushed to her feet sometime during her rant. He was frustrating her with his even, logical thought process. He was clearly someone who looked at the outcomes before acting, who measured each step to figure out if it was worth taking. In other words, her complete opposite.

"Look," he sighed, "I'm not saying we have nothing. There is definitely something going on. But I can't just drop everything and fly to Louisiana with y - hang on. How in the hell did you buy tickets to Louisiana? I thought the _Telegraph_ fired you."

"They did," she shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a clean mug from the cupboard above the sink. There was a little bit of coffee left over in the carafe, and she poured the dregs into her mug as she told him the truth. "I used the last of whatever I had in savings. It was for a good reason."

"See, that's the thing with you," he shot back, "your good reason barometer is on the fritz."

She knew what he meant, but she still took offense to his apparent mockery of her work. "This is important to me, Mitch."

"I know it is. I'm sorry." His tone had changed from lecturing scientist to concerned friend. He knew more about her now than anyone else on the west coast - probably anyone else in the world. Her aunt and uncle never agreed with her pursuit of evidence against Reiden, preferring to accept what happened and move on with their lives. But Jamie couldn't do that. She'd made a career out of Reiden, vowing to make them pay for what they'd done to her hometown, to her family. Everything and everyone else didn't matter so long as her mother and the twenty-five other souls were given justice. And here she was asking what could quite possibly be her only friend in the world to do the same. It wasn't fair.

"No, I'm sorry, Mitch. You were right, I shouldn't have asked you to drop everything. You have a life here, the zoo, your classes, laundry." She slumped back against the kitchen counter and left her mug sitting next to the sink. "Thank you for your help."

"Wait," he sounded a little panicked at what sounded suspiciously to her ears like a goodbye. She smiled despite the sorrow creeping over her; his interest in her was flattering and not just a little endearing. "Your meeting will go a lot better if you have a Ph.D to back it up. Besides…" he trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with whatever thought had suddenly hit him. No doubt he was thinking she shouldn't be alone, and that he'd promised to help her.

She had already resolved not to hold him to that promise when she prodded gently. "Besides what?"

He blew out a breath that was audible over the phone. "I hear Louisiana is lovely this time of year."

The flight from LAX to Ryan Field in Baton Rouge was slated to last almost four hours. Mitch met her at the airport just after eight after calling in to work and canceling his class. She was pacing in front of the skycap booth when his taxi pulled up, and he frowned as he approached her.

"You look like hell."

"Gee, thanks," she smiled sweetly at him. "Just what a girl likes to hear."

They made it through security with no issues, and Jamie barrelled through the throngs to their gate with Mitch on her heels. They arrived just as the first class passengers were boarding, and it was only a few more minutes until they were walking down the jet bridge to the plane. Travel from Los Angeles to Baton Rouge was thankfully light in the middle of the week, and their side of the aisle only had two seats. Mitch let Jamie take the window seat as he stowed their bags in the overhead. By the time he was seated, she was buckled and checking her phone.

"Our flight arrives around two o'clock local time. Our meeting with Senator Vaughn is at four-thirty, so we should have time for a quick lunch." She remembered him saying how much he liked the food and was already planning to take him to a favorite local haunt.

"Sounds good," he settled into his seat and buckled as the flight attendants did a last minute check and gave the safety briefing. Jamie didn't pay much attention; her mind was too occupied with this upcoming meeting. She and Senator Vaughn went back to when he was just a local politician running for the City Council on the platform of stricter regulations for companies like Reiden and a promise to launch an investigation to make them answer for the spill. He'd won by a landslide, earning almost ninety percent of the vote from the residents. Jamie had been a member of his grassroots campaign when he ran for the State Congress, and she'd kept in contact as he'd fulfilled his promise of investigating Reiden's culpability. As time wore on and Reiden blocked every attempt, the drive behind the investigations lessened. These days it felt like Jamie was the only one still fighting, but she knew Senator Vaughn wouldn't ignore their findings. This would be the thing they needed to finally break through the red tape and give Reiden something to worry about.

Her eyes popped open as the plane bounced once, then twice as it landed on the runway. Her head was resting lightly on Mitch's shoulder, and she smiled sheepishly as she stretched and sat up.

"Sorry," she mumbled groggily.

"It's alright," Mitch looked up from the Sky Mall magazine he was flipping through. "You looked like you needed rest. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Not really," she admitted. "Too anxious."

"Hey, it'll be fine. We'll talk to this Senator of yours, get things rolling, then go see about finding some evidence to back up our theory." He closed the magazine and tucked it back into the pouch in front of him. An empty cup was tucked between his thigh and the armrest, and Jamie's stomach growled at the sight of the crumpled up peanut bag shoved inside.

"Yeah," she agreed with his plan, "but first I need food."

Poor Boy Lloyd's was a popular spot for Cajun and Creole food, but at two-thirty it was almost bare of patrons. Jamie ordered and turned her attention to the passersby walking outside. It had been a long time since she'd been home, but she remembered the day trips to Baton Rouge she and her aunt had taken once a month after her mother died. She had been an only child but her uncle and aunt had four boys, and after Jamie had moved in with them it had been hard adjusting. Her aunt had suggested the trips and Jamie had agreed, eager to get out of the chaotic house even for just a few hours.

"Jamie?"

Mitch's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she blinked a few times to refocus. "What?"

"I was just asking when was the last time you were home?" He seemed concerned, but she shook her head and tried to dismiss the worry in his eyes with a smile.

"A while," she chuckled. "Six years? Maybe more."

"Does your dad still live in Folsom?"

"No," the smile faded from her face. "I, uh, actually have no idea where he lives. He left after my mom got sick."

Mitch's face hardened for a moment and Jamie braced herself for the pity that was inevitable. He took a breath - no doubt to offer some thoughtful condolence - but he surprised her yet again. "And here I thought I had the market cornered on horrible fathers."

Their food arrived shortly after, ending the conversation about family and turning the focus toward their upcoming meeting. They went over the data once more, and Mitch did his best to keep her points focused and rational.

"Remember, we don't actually have concrete evidence yet, but we do have a promising start. You don't want to present it like we have more than we actually do."

Jamie nodded around a mouthful of her po' boy. "We can show they're altering the animal's genetics, and that they're developing some mutations that are disturbing."

"That's an observation, not an actual conclusion," Mitch pointed out.

"Right, well we _will_ be able to prove it, once we get back to L.A. and do more tests. There are more tests we can do without hurting the lions, right?" She had grown rather fond of the little cub in their short time together.

"Yeah," Mitch confirmed. "We should get going. Don't want to be late." He checked the time as he fished his wallet from his pocket. He dropped a few bills onto the table to cover lunch, making no mention of her lack of funds or a job.

Jamie stood with him, checking her own watch with a laugh. "We have almost half an hour until the meeting. It's not L.A.; traffic really isn't a problem."

They walked up 3rd past a pizza shop named Schlittz and Giggles, and Mitch laughed. Jamie glanced around, noticing how little the area had changed in the last six years. Huey's Bar was still open on the corner of Laurel, and her aunt's favorite Italian cafe was offering their daily specials as they walked by.

As they passed North Street and into the Capitol district, Jamie felt her stomach twist in knots. She'd spent so much of her teenage years here, often taking the bus with what little money she earned from chores and tutoring and ending up at the library for what amounted to months doing research and figuring out just how to get justice for her mother.

The State Library sat just opposite of where Lafayette dead ended into 3rd. Just a block down a large expanse of green sat between the library and the State Capitol where Senator Vaughn was waiting. They cut across Capitol Park, and Jamie remembered sitting here with her aunt as they ate and tried to find something to talk about that didn't involve Jamie's quest or life on the farm.

They had to show ID at the door, passing through the metal detectors with only minimal fuss. They were waved to a side hallway where a series of elevators sat out of sight. A sign bolted into the wall told them that these elevators led to the offices on the upper floors.

Senator Vaughn's office was located on the seventh floor, and Jamie's footfalls were muffled on the beige carpet as they were directed to his door. She knocked twice and took a deep breath, catching Mitch's eye and smiling briefly at his attempt to reassure her with one of his own.

"Ms. Campbell!" Robert Vaughn opened the door and greeted her warmly, and for a moment she felt all the stress and worry wash away. Here was a man who had been through to the trenches with her. He'd fought and scraped against Reiden for as long as she had. She accepted his handshake with a genuine smile and turned to introduce Mitch.

"Senator Vaughn, this is Doctor Mitchell Morgan. He's a veterinary pathologist at the Los Angeles Zoo and teaches at UCLA." The two men shook briefly, but Mitch didn't say anything. Obviously he was going to let her take the lead.

"Come inside," Vaughn gestured for them to precede him into the office, and they stepped through the glass door as Jamie spoke.

"Thank you for making the time for us, Senator." She had been in the office a few times, so the large moose head mounted on the wall didn't even faze her. Mitch, however, eyed the taxidermy with a critical eye.

"Oh my," he said quietly. "Beautiful. Bag that yourself?"

Senator Vaughn didn't seem to sense the disdain in his tone. "In Alaska, for my 40th birthday," Vaughn answered proudly. He turned to Jamie and pushed his hands into his pockets. "Reiden Global," he began. "We have been fighting that fight for some time, haven't we Miss Campbell?"

"Yes we have, Senator," Jamie nodded, "but Dr. Morgan has found the smoking gun we've been waiting for." She gestured for Mitch to explain; it's why she brought him along in the first place.

"Right," Mitch looked a little stunned but he recovered quickly. "It's possible that a new mutation is allowing lions in Los Angeles to communicate with each other over long distances." The senator looked unimpressed, but Mitch kept going. "Functioning as some sort of superorganism." Then, because Jamie knew he couldn't possibly present that kind of bombshell without clarification, he added, "Although the evidence is observational, not quantitative."

Jamie could see that Vaughn was still unaffected, and a small flicker of doubt began to make itself known in her mind. She jumped in before Vaughn could speak. "What Dr. Morgan didn't mention is that the mutation in the lions - and some disturbing behavior we witnessed in cats - was preceded by exposure to Reiden pesticides." There it was, the big reveal, and Vaughn simply frowned. Jamie felt that flicker of doubt burst into full flame. Something was wrong. "We can finally show that Reiden is radically altering animal genetic code."

Vaughn held up his hands and cut her off. "I have been with you on this, Jamie, from the beginning. But as is the case sometimes in these matter, things change."

Next to her, Mitch shifted his weight and took a small step closer to her. "What things?" she inquired.

He turned to the large bookshelves on the back wall. He indicated the stacks of binders with one hand. "See those shelves? That is result of the investigations my committee has launched into Reiden Global. For every motion we file, they file ten. For every lawyer we have, they have a dozen. Reiden is just too powerful. They're everywhere."

 _No,_ she thought, _this is not happening_. "Well Senator, this -"

"I know this has been important to you for some time," he interjected, "but it is over."

 _Over_. It was an ugly word, one she had sworn never to use when talking about Reiden. She felt Mitch's hand on her back, warm and solid. His soft tenor pushed through the fog in her mind as she fought a tidal wave of despair.

"We should go, Jamie."

But Jamie wasn't through. It would never be over, not until her mother's soul could rest and the demons of her past were finally silenced. "Please," she tried one last time, but Vaughn just shook his head sadly.

"Knowing when there's no longer any sense in a fight, Jamie, is what separates the proud from the pathetic." Shock mixed with embarrassment as he reached forward to squeeze her shoulder. "Goodbye." He moved past her, obviously done with the meeting. Jamie stood motionless for a few more seconds as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened. Mitch nudged her gently and she felt her feet move despite the confusion still muddling her brain. She pushed through the door as it all caught up, and she felt her eyes sting with unshed tears.

Behind her, Mitch paused at the door and she stopped in the hall as he spoke. "Senator, I did my grad school thesis on the inverse proportionality of taxidermy wall mounts to their owners' penis size." A pause, then, "My condolences to your wife." It should have been funny, his attempt to defend her, but she couldn't muster a smile. Her throat was tight and her vision blurred as he came up behind her. His hand found her back once more as he ushered her toward the elevators, and her feet moved almost automatically as the car arrived and the doors opened.

She had failed. Fifteen years of searching and studying, of losing fights and friends, had all culminated in this final spectacular defeat. And the worst part was that it hadn't come from the enemy. In the end she'd been betrayed by someone she thought she could trust. As the elevator descended to the lobby, Jamie closed her eyes and whispered an apology.

 _I'm sorry, Mom._

Suddenly the space she was in was too small. She fought to take a breath as her legs wobbled underneath her. Mitch reached out but she shied away, desperate to find the space to breathe. The soft ding of the elevator echoed in her head as the doors opened, and she rushed through the marbled halls toward the front door. She vaguely heard Mitch reassuring the guards that she was no threat, that she just needed air. No one stopped her as she barreled out the door and into the sunshine.

Her legs carried her to the park across the street where she leaned against a live oak just in time. She rested her head on her arm, sucking in lungfuls of air as spots swam in her vision. A few dry sobs hiccuped past her throat, but the tears she felt just behind her eyes never fell. Instead, a red hot anger surged in her and she slammed her other fist against the trunk twice before letting it fall to her side.

There was nothing left, no story to chase, no evil to conquer. After devoting over half her life to the cause, she was left broken and empty. It took a few more minutes to collect herself, and when she stepped back from the oak she found Mitch's worried eyes on her. He'd stopped several yards away, obviously giving her space to work things out. He looked uncomfortable, but his gaze never wavered. _I'm here_ , he was saying. _If you need me._

She approached him slowly, still wary of her own turbulent emotions. She sniffed once but still no tears came. He asked the question without using words, and she dipped her chin once to indicate she was alright.

"Um," she swallowed thickly and brushed off her arm where bits of bark had clung to her sweater, "the return flight to L.A. is in about five hours. I'll, um, meet you at the airport. There's something I need to do." In all honesty, she had no intention of returning to L.A. There was nothing left for her there except the possibility of dragging Mitch into the downward spiral that had become her life. It wasn't fair to him, but he'd never agree if she tried to tell him that.

"You really want to be alone right now?" She wondered not for the first time how he seemed to know her so well. What she needed to do next was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done, and a part of her ached to let him stand beside her while she did it. But another part told her to let him go, to keep him as far away from the destruction that seemed to follow her around.

"I…" But the words wouldn't come. Her heart wouldn't obey what her mind was telling her. "I need to visit my mom," she told him finally. What she left unsaid hung between them. _To tell her I've failed_. She saw the worry in his eyes tinge with sadness that bordered on sympathy and she rushed on. "I figured you probably didn't want to come."

"Is she buried here?" He glanced around to indicate the city proper, and Jamie shook her head.

"No, she's not. I need to call my uncle and see if he can come pick me up."

"From Folsom," Mitch finished. "And then drive you back, let you visit the cemetery, then get you to the airport - all in less than five hours?" He didn't sound convinced, and she hung her head. "Tell you what, how about we rent a car and I drive you out there. That way we'll actually catch our plane back to L.A." He paused, then leveled a knowing look at her. "Unless you weren't planning on going back." She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it from where he'd combed it for their meeting with Vaughn. "Come on." He turned away from her, leading her away from the park and out to the street.

There weren't as many taxis in Baton Rouge as there were in L.A., but there weren't as many people either. He managed to flag one down pretty easily and gestured for her to get in. She didn't argue, knowing from just the week or so that she'd known him that it would do no good. And, she told herself, she really didn't want to be alone right now.

He rented a car from the nearest company, balking at her promise to pay him back somehow. She already owed him so much, and it was more than just money. He'd believed in her when no one else had, and when the truth about her real intentions had come out he hadn't run away. Just the opposite, really. He'd buckled down and promised to help her however he could. As he drove them out of the city and east on I-12 Jamie found her thoughts filling with him, cementing himself into the empty places left by the disaster of the day.

It took a little over an hour to reach Folsom, and Jamie's heart pounded as they crossed the city limits. After Katrina, the entire state had been reeling and scrabbling for solid ground. Reiden had come along with what amounted to a miracle. They had saved the whole parish, only to leave it ravaged and broken just a few years later. Folsom had never recovered.

State Highway 40 dropped them right in the middle of downtown Folsom. Jamie actually recognized the faces they passed on the sidewalk, though she didn't wave.

"Which way?" Mitch asked at the intersection of Garfield and Orange Street.

"Left," she pointed. "New Hope is a few miles north of town." He nodded and turned, driving slowly through her hometown as she tried not to meet anyone's eyes. They were almost passed the Post Office when he suddenly slowed and pulled up alongside the curb. "What are you doing?"

He unbuckled and opened the door. "Be right back," he told her as he dashed around the front of the car and into a small flower shop. Jamie hunched lower in her seat and leaned her head forward to let her hair fall over her face. Tommy Baker, her high school sweetheart, was standing outside arranging pots. If he bothered to glance up from his work he'd be looking right at her. Mitch returned moments later with a small bouquet, and he handed it across to her with a sheepish smile.

"Thank you," she mumbled. He got them back out onto Route 25 with a grunt that was probably Mitch's version of "don't mention it." She clutched the flowers as they left Folsom, suddenly nervous about what was to come. After her mother's death, Jamie had promised to get justice, to never stop until her mother and the other victims of Reiden could rest easy. Now she would have to stand at her mother's grave and admit defeat.

Mitch parked in the designated lot, and Jamie turned to look at Mitch before she opened the door and stood. She'd meant to tell him it was alright, that he could stay in the car. He must have interpreted it differently, and as she walked the narrow path back through the tombs and gravestones his steady footfalls echoed her own.

Nancy Campbell's headstone was a small rectangle among the tombs and mausoleums that were staples in the cemeteries of the Bayou State. Jamie brushed off some dead vines that had grown over the stone before laying the small bundle of flowers on top. Mitch had stopped some distance back to give her privacy, though she could see him watching her out of the corner of her eye.

"Hi Mom," she whispered over the wind. Crouched in front of her mother's grave, Jamie felt the tears she'd been fighting return. One spilled over onto her cheek as she sniffed quietly. "Sorry it's been a while. I've been busy with work." It was an excuse, she knew, but the only one that would come. Truthfully, she'd wanted the next time she stood in front of her mother's name to be the day she announced her victory.

"I saw Senator Vaughn today," Jamie continued as though she was having a conversation over the phone rather than across some void. In her mind, she could hear her mother's reply, and she answered the imagined question. "It was about Reiden. He said…" Jamie's lower lip trembled and she dropped her chin to catch the sob in her throat. "He said it was over. I really thought I had something this time, Mom. After all this time, all of the dead ends and red tape, all of the sleepless nights, and the heartache…" Her breath hitched in her throat and she swallowed thickly. "I tried to fight the good fight, but all I ended up doing was tilting at windmills."

Another tear escaped, but this one fell from her eye and splashed on the stone beneath the year of her mother's death. Jamie stared at the dark spot for a long while. She knew in a few moments it would be gone, erased by the wind. "Something is going on with the lions, something more than just a freak occurrence. And I know Reiden Global is responsible. I just don't know what to do."

Nancy Campbell had been one of the strongest women Jamie had ever known. Even weakened and frail from the chemo, she had always had enough strength to listen to Jamie and give her advice. New to the teen girl scene, Jamie had brushed her off and done whatever she thought was best. Fifteen years later, all Jamie wished for was to hear her mother's advice one more time.

The breeze picked up then, fluttering around her and shifting through her hair. Jamie closed her eyes and remembered how her mother used to run her fingers through the red locks as they sat on the porch swing at sunset. It was usually too hot or too cold outside for her mother, but she always made sure to be on that swing at dusk waiting for Jamie with a cup of hot cocoa or iced tea. Jamie would snuggle beneath the blanket on her lap and talk about her day as her mother listened. Sometimes she would ask a question or interject her thoughts, but mostly she let Jamie talk and figure things out for herself as the Louisiana wind brought the smell of sugar cane from the fields.

The wind shifted as Jamie knelt by her mother's grave, and suddenly her senses were invaded by another scent. This one was new, but growing reassuringly familiar. She felt him at her back before she saw him, and when she stood he was less than an arm's length away. She didn't think about her next move, didn't even look him in the eye. Two steps took her into the shelter of his body, and his arms came around her somewhat stiffly as she sobbed into his jacket. Gradually his embrace relaxed, and he ran one hand up and down her back as she clung to his waist and wept.

"Come on," he murmured against her hair after a few moments. "It's getting late."

She stepped back and turned away as embarrassment flushed her cheeks. He hovered for a second more before moving away to give her time to collect herself. She wiped her eyes and looked back at her mother's name with a pang of regret. Mitch had begun walking back toward the car, and Jamie only took a moment more before following him.

The ride back to town was silent, though not oppressive. Jamie didn't feel a need to fill the silence, and Mitch seemed to be concentrating on the road ahead. She kept her eyes out the passenger window, less worried now about being seen. She doubted anyone would even recognize her anyway. She barely recognized herself these days.

The car began to slow, and Jamie glanced at Mitch as he turned into a parking lot near the center of town. "What are you doing?"

"Stopping for a drink," he told her. "After today, I think we both need one." She couldn't argue, but he did have a plane to catch. He seemed to sense the reason for her hesitation and waved one hand absently. "Don't worry, we still have time." She eyed the clock skeptically, but unbuckled and stepped out of the car when he did.

She knew where they were - had known when he'd begun turning without even looking at the sign. Vic had been the owner of the town's only bar for almost twenty years. Jamie had gone to school with his daughter, had dated one of his sons, and had gotten nearly black out drunk the last time she'd set foot inside. It had been right after her college graduation. Her uncle had insisted she come home for a party - she was the first generation of Campbells to go to college, must less graduate. She'd had such high hopes for her future, and she'd celebrated just a little too much. Her uncle had gotten her home, laughing at her the next morning as she tried and failed to pretend she didn't have the worst hangover.

She sighed as she stepped through the worn wooden door. The entire bar was still covered end to end in twinkling lights. Most visitors assumed it was a quirk or gimmick, but the residents of Folsom knew the truth. It was a reminder.

They sat down at the bar as one of Vic's sons sidled over with a pleasant smile. Thankfully David wasn't the one Jamie had dated in high school and he didn't seem to recognize her as they ordered - whiskey for her and a beer for him. She downed the shot expertly and signaled for another. It went down as smoothly as the first, and she felt the pleasant warmth of numbness wash over her. Mitch had been right - she'd needed this.

"So Vic, who owns this place, he's kept the decorations up for fifteen years. Since his wife died on Christmas Eve." David refilled her glass and she threw it back as Mitch took a sip of his own drink.

"How very Miss Havisham of him." He eyed her critically. "Alright, is this what you're going to do? 'Bartender, pour me another?' You're gonna drown your sorrows because of a little setback."

Jamie scoffed at him, feeling her tongue loosen from the effects of the alcohol. "A little setback? Dude, I don't have a job. I don't have an apartment. I don't have any money. And the last best chance I had of nailing these bastards just showed us the door." She held up her empty glass and tapped the rim with one finger. "Encore."

"Yes ma'am," David nodded and grabbed the bottle.

"You don't have an apartment?" Of course Mitch had picked up on the one line she hadn't meant to say.

"Hmm?" she feigned innocence.

"You said you didn't have an apartment. What happened?"

"Got evicted," she said matter-of-factly. "Rent was late. Again." He seemed to have nothing to say to that, though she could see the wheels turning in his head. She knew he was already probably contemplating an offer she would have to refuse, so she blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind. "I was awful to my mother the last year she was sick."

The abrupt topic change worked. He frowned and took another sip of his drink. "You were a kid," he excused. Then, because he probably couldn't say something without a scientific fact to back it up, he added, "Kids' brains access fear more easily than they do compassion. Fear of losing your mother made empathy impossible."

"I was ashamed of her," Jamie admitted. "Ashamed of her baldness."

"Maybe that's why you're doing this," he replied helpfully. "Why you're off on this crusade. To make things right."

"Well no kidding, Sigmund. Duh." It had come out more harshly than she'd intended, and she winced.

"Okay, listen," Mitch shifted in his seat and leaned toward her. "Maybe I can work on the theory back at the lab. Few more tests, I can come up with something that even Reiden Global and their legion of lawyers can't deny."

It was the single greatest thing anyone had ever said to her. That he was completely sincere and maybe more than a little infatuated with her didn't hurt either, but Jamie shook her head. She couldn't let this fool's quest destroy anyone else's life.

"No, don't bother," she appreciated the muted buzz that kept her from bursting into tears. "It's over."

"Why?" Mitch had abandoned his drink to grasp at whatever was falling apart between them.

"Look," Jamie stood and only wobbled slightly as she fished her cell from her pocket. "I really appreciate everything that you've done so far, but there's nothing for me there." The look of hurt on his face almost made her take it back, but she told herself it was better this way. He didn't need her pulling him down. "I'm gonna go call my uncle," she excused herself. "See if I can crash with him until my next setback."

She stepped away from him before he could protest, before he could do or say something that would change her mind. Because she knew he would likely succeed. He had wormed his way into her heart, and if he gave it a concerted effort he could talk her into going back to L.A. with him. She found her uncle's contact information in her phone and pressed the green button with shaky fingers. He picked up on the third ring.

"Hey bug," his usual greeting was warm and soothing to her chaotic thoughts.

"Hey Uncle Bo." She smiled despite the sadness in her heart. She held the phone back as he hollered for her aunt, letting her know Jamie was calling.

"How's the big city treating you?" he asked more evenly.

"I'm in town, actually," she tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, like it was an all-of-a-sudden thing.

"For work?"

"Yeah, for work," she agreed readily.

"With the paper?"

"Yep, with the paper." She loved her family dearly, but they were simple farmers with little knowledge of the fast pace of the world around them. The longer she was away, the greater the distance grew between them. "Uh, I was thinking maybe we could catch up?"

"That would be great!" Bo bellowed. "You should come by the house and see what your aunt's done with the garden out back."

"Yeah, I'd love to come by." She turned around to see Mitch talking to some well-dressed gentleman. They seemed to be deep in conversation, and she idly wondered how intriguing the mystery man must be to engage the anti-social scientist for so long. She turned back around as her uncle spoke in an excited tone.

"Listen, I know that paper of yours probably put you up in Mandeville, but your aunt and I would love it if you would stay with us. It's been too long, bug." He sounded sad, and Jamie instantly regretted not keeping in better contact with the two people who had effectively raised her once her mother had taken ill. They had been nothing but supportive and loving, even through her mood swings and anger. She had treated them horribly the first few years after her mother's death, and she felt like she owed them at least a night of family commiserating before she dropped the reality of her failures on them.

"Yeah," she smiled, "that would be great." She saw Mitch approaching her out of the corner of her eye, and her face fell. "Except there's someone here with me. For work," she clarified hurriedly. "He's a scientist from UCLA helping me present some findings." It was the truth - most of it anyway.

"Bring him along." The invitation was immediate and friendly, sincere and open in that Southern way that Jamie loved. Her uncle didn't know strangers, and everyone who met him liked him instantly.

"Uh, okay," she covered the microphone with her hand as Mitch came to a stop beside her. "My uncle has invited us over. I know you have a plane to catch but -"

"It's alright," Mitch dismissed her concern. "There's been a change of plans."

"Okay," she dragged out the word then uncovered the phone. "We'll be at the house in fifteen minutes."

"That soon?" Her uncle sounded surprised. "I figured you were in Mandeville." It wasn't a large jump; she'd visited Senator Vaughn at his district office enough. She'd never told her uncle when she was visiting. She wondered now if he'd found out anyway.

"Nope, we're at Vic's right now. I'm showing Doctor Morgan the wonders of Folsom." It was a poor joke, but her uncle laughed anyway.

"Such as they are. Alright, I'll tell your aunt to expect you. Will you be staying the night?"

"Um…" Jamie knew she would be, but inviting Mitch to not only have dinner with her family but to stay with them would be asking a lot of him. "I'll let you know when we get there. Love you."

"Love you too, bug. See you soon." The line disconnected and Jamie slipped her phone into her back pocket.

Mitch raised his eyebrows expectantly, but Jamie just sighed. "Come on," she stepped past him. "You can explain your change of plans on the way to my uncle's house."


	4. Pack Mentality - Alpha

Chapter 4: Pack Mentality - Alpha

 _The team's first field trip gives them more questions than answers, but Mitch has worries of his own._

* * *

Mitch ran through the last 24 hours in his head trying to figure out how he'd gone from an antisocial zoo vet and part-time professor to a member of a five person team trying to solve what seemed to be a global animal epidemic. They sat at Haneda International waiting for their flight to Beijeng for the first stop on this insane quest. Next to him, Jamie searched news articles on her laptop for any mention of animals behaving strangely. She seemed better - happier somehow. He supposed it was because they were working again. The blow she'd received in Louisiana had taken the wind from her sails, leaving her adrift. He'd explained about Gaspard's offer on the drive to her uncle's, though he'd conveniently left off the fact that they'd initially just wanted him. Jamie had seized the opportunity with both hands, and he had been relieved to see a little bit of the fire return to her eyes. The meeting with Gaspard and Delavane in D.C. had introduced them to the other three members of the team they'd assembled. Mitch hadn't been impressed by any of them.

His pen tapped the legal pad beneath it thoughtfully. He'd always found writing his thoughts down helped him figure things out, and this mystery was no exception. He'd made two columns, and under _Effects_ he'd written a list of the symptoms they'd witnessed. His second column was woefully blank, and he scribbled a question mark childishly. Next to him, Jamie glanced over from her screen as he dropped his pen in frustration. Wordlessly she reached over, scratched out his question mark, and wrote two words under _Causes_. Reiden Global.

She dropped the pen triumphantly and raised her eyebrows. "Can we go home now?" He looked at her for a moment with her hair pulled back and her face scrubbed clean. She looked more youthful, more vibrant than the downtrodden woman he'd consoled at a grave two days ago. Or was it only one? They'd hopped so many time zones in the last 24 hours that it was hard to keep track.

"See," he teased as she leaned back, "this is the problem with obsession. No room at all for the happy little gray areas."

She turned back to her laptop and saved a few webpages as she replied. "The world has plenty of happy little gray areas, Mitch. The Israeli-Palestine conflict," her fingers tapped her keyboard, "the legalization of marijuana," she looked up at him, "Taylor Swift's move from country to pop."

"Alright," he angled toward her slightly and pitched his voice low, "if Delavane is right, if what he's saying is true - and I'm not saying it is - but _if_...then this goes way beyond what we saw with the lions in L.A." He sighed and glanced back down at his notepad. "What if the animals that led the attacks in China, in Europe, Africa, were all infected with the same thing? This could be the beginning of a worldwide event."

"I"m sure there's a reason they're called Reiden Global," Jamie argued. "They have their tentacles in everything from pesticides to genetically modified crop seeds. It's a one-stop shop for the animal apocalypse."

He opened his mouth to fire back, to at least temper her ranting with a little bit of reasoning, when Abraham and Jackson arrived at their table. "Coffee?" The larger man held a cardboard square with four cups, and as he set it down on the table Jackson Oz sat across from Mitch.

Hearing Robert Oz's name in their meeting had instantly set Mitch on edge. The man had been brilliant in his own right, but word in intellectual circles was that he took his theories too far and eventually went crazy. Robert Oz had long been associated with animal behavior and Mitch had even read some of his publications during his vet school days. But even the most brilliant minds could hide some deep psychoses, and Mitch now remembered Oz as a warning rather than an icon.

"Thank you," Jamie smiled at Abraham. "You read my mind."

Mitch returned to his notes in an effort to ignore the two men, but Jackson had other ideas. He reached over and set a coffee in front of him. "There you go."

Mitch glanced up begrudgingly. "Thank you." And then, because he could see Jamie staring at him pointedly, he picked up the drink and blew softly before taking a drink. He dropped his eyes back to the pad for a moment but looked back up when Jackson produced a tablet and held it up.

"Does any of this make any sense to you?" His tone was even and polite but not at all friendly, and Mitch knew it was because of their first meeting. He had never been known for making a great first impression. Add to that finding out the entire reason for creating the team in the first place was the research of one of the most delusional scientists in the world, and it was a wonder either of them was keeping a civil tone. Calling someone's father a crackpot tended to alienate them, and Mitch had made no strides to bridge the gap.

Mitch tried to decipher anything from the chaotic scribbles, swiping through the images of what seemed to be notes of some kind. "Interesting penmanship," he commented. "Who wrote this, a seven year old? On a roller coaster?"

"My father," Jackson answered in that barely civil tone.

"Right," Mitch should have guessed. "Well, I don't have a clue what's going on in most of these pictures, but this," he indicated an image of what seemed to be a list. " _Felidae, Carnivora_. That's big cat taxonomy. _Panthera pardus_." He glanced up and realized all three of them were looking at him with blank stares. "Leopards," he clarified.

"Leopards?" Abraham questioned then turned to Jackson. "You have any idea why leopards would be so important to your father?"

"No," Jackson shook his head as the fifth member of their merry little band arrived.

"Guys," Chloe stopped just behind Jamie. "Change of plans. We're going to Mississippi."

Jackson spoke up before anyone else could. "Mississippi? What happened to Beijing?"

"There's been a prison fire at Biloxi Penitentiary. It appears no one survived. Not guards, not prisoners. No one."

Mitch frowned and took in a breath to ask the obvious question, but Jamie beat him to it. "Prison fire? What does that have to do with us?"

"Because at the time of the fire the prison was under attack," Chloe answered. "By wolves."

The flight back to the states was worse than the flight to Tokyo, and the change in time zones meant they lost almost another day in transit. It was afternoon by the time they landed at the Gulfport-Biloxi Airport, and Mitch's mind and body were exhausted. Jamie had managed a few hours in the seat next to him, though she hadn't leaned on his shoulder like she had on the flight from L.A. to Baton Rouge. As they grabbed their bags and trudged up the jet bridge toward the terminal, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

"Hey," he leaned in close on the escalator that took them from the gates to the parking garage. Delavane had already procured two vehicles for them, and Chloe had been handed the keys upon arrival. Jamie turned her head slightly, and he cleared his throat. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded and turned her head back to watch her step as she left the moving stairs. He followed her a second later and made room for Abraham behind him. "You?" she returned.

"Peachy," he grumbled. "I've spent more time in the air in the last week than the entire rest of my life combined."

"I know what you mean," Jamie laughed as Chloe searched for their cars. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A little," he lied. Truthfully, he didn't sleep much anyway but he didn't want her to worry. "I'll be happy for the bed this evening, though." Delavane had already gotten them rooms at a local hotel. They would be in town for as long as it took to figure out what happened at the prison.

Chloe gestured for them to gather around as she began to delegate the day's responsibilities. Mitch only half listened until she said something about trapping a wolf.

"So-wha-sorry?" Mitch stammered.

"Yes," Chloe affirmed. "I expect studying a wolf will provide answers to what may have caused the pack -"

His brain had finally caught up with the conversation, and he didn't like the fact that Jamie would be going off with virtual strangers. He'd never say that, though, so he went with the next best thing. "No," Mitch interrupted, "but I don't know the first thing about trapping a wolf."

"Which is why Abraham will be going with you," Chloe fired back.

Jackson seemed as reluctant at separating from Abraham as Mitch was from Jamie. "Wait, why don't I just go with Abraham?"

"Genius recommendation," Mitch jumped on the younger man's suggestion. "I second that." But Chloe wasn't having any of their reticence. She shut them down with a well-reasoned argument that Mitch would have appreciated at any other time. With no more objections that didn't make him sound overbearing and insecure, he gave in.

"Are you coming?" Chloe called from across the garage.

Jackson was the first to move, following her with barely a glance at Abraham. "Yeah."

Mitch turned back to Jamie, offering her a small wave as she shrugged and stepped around him. "Be careful," he whispered low enough for her to hear but not loud enough to carry across the concrete structure. She half-turned as she walked away, giving him a reassuring smile before turning back and sliding into the back of the sedan.

Mitch felt Abraham come up next to him. "You know, I like this Chloe," he smiled. "She's what you would call...peppery."

Mitch sneered and tried not to think of how much Chloe reminded him of Audra. "Yeah, I was never a big fan of peppery."

Abraham chuckled then and tapped Mitch on the shoulder with the envelope of money Chloe had given him. "Come on, then," he urged. "Let's go find this hunting supply store and see if they sell traps of any kind."

Mitch scoffed and climbed into the passenger seat of the large SUV. "In Mississippi? We'll be lucky if we don't get shot."

They pulled up outside Cook's Gun Shop and had to park in the back of the lot due to the sheer number of vehicles surrounding the building. Trucks of all shapes and sizes crowded the area, and men milled about strapping down things in the beds or double checking rounds and weapons. Mitch and Abraham pushed through the throng near the registers to the side of the store.

"I knew Americans enjoy hunting," Abraham glanced around at the sheer number of people in the store, "I had no idea it was this popular."

Mitch found a worker stocking the waders. "Uh, excuse me," he began. "What's going on?"

The man looked up from his work in disbelief. "The county announced a wolf cull, because of what happened at the prison."

"What is a wolf cull?" Abraham asked.

Mitch - who had always been staunchly against hunting for sport - had to fight to keep the disgust from his tone. He almost managed it. "That's when a bunch of men go out into the woods to hunt wolves...armed with beer and high-powered rifles." And then, because he couldn't resist he added, "Because, you know, what goes better together than guns and drinking?"

Abraham shared in his amusement for a moment, and Mitch found himself starting to like the enigmatic African man as he asked the worker, "Do you have any traps or snares? We are looking to catch a wolf. Catch, not kill."

The worker seemed genuinely confused at their request, but tried to be helpful nonetheless. "We might have some net guns in the back."

After a rather colorful encounter with the locals, Mitch and Abraham made their way to the hotel with their purchases. They beat the others back, so they checked in and took the elevator up to the third floor. Abraham took one of the double rooms, obviously expecting to room with Jackson. Mitch supposed Jamie and Chloe would bunk together, leaving him a room all to himself. The introvert in him rejoiced at the idea of some alone time after spending over three days straight in the company of others.

He showered first, changing into a fresh pair of jeans and a button up shirt. By the time he ordered room service the others had returned. He called the front desk and added four more entrees to the order, then listened as Jackson and Chloe reported the details of their visit to the prison.

"Submissive? To a man?" Mitch questioned Jackson's observation, and the younger man took notice of his tone.

"I'm telling you, they saw him as their alpha," Jackson shot back. "I can't explain it, but it's what I saw."

"That's impossible," Mitch argued.

"Yeah, I'm guessing that word is gonna be used a lot in the next few weeks," Jamie tried to interject some levity into the tension filling the room but it fell flat. She cleared her throat and switched topics. "Did you guys get something to trap a wolf?"

"We did," Abraham said jovially, "and Mitch made a new friend."

Jamie shot him a curious look and he rolled his eyes. "I was merely trying to explain to the gentleman that the wolves aren't rabid. Rabid wolves don't behave this way, and killing them wholesale isn't really the best solution."

Jamie snorted in amusement. "I bet he took that well." Mitch returned her mocking smile with one of his own as dinner arrived. Chloe tipped the boy at the door and rolled the cart inside.

"Bon appétit."

With their bellies full, exhaustion wasn't too far behind. Abraham and Jackson excused themselves first, the former promising to meet Mitch down in the lobby bright and early to begin their hunt. Chloe was next, standing with a lithe stretch.

"I'm going downstairs to see if they have anything other than alcohol at the bar. Any of you want something?"

"Chamomile tea?" Jamie requested.

"Sure," and the French woman exited Mitch's room with a small wave. Jamie used her fork to push the last few bites of food around on her plate as Mitch rifled through his bag for the paperback he'd bought before their flight to Tokyo. He expected her to excuse herself to her room and was content to spend the rest of the evening reading until his brain tired enough to fall asleep. Instead, she set her plate on the cart and leaned back in her chair as if to stay a while longer.

"Crazy day," she started, as though she was unsure if he wanted her company.

"Yeah," he tossed his bag onto the spare bed and sat down on the other. "Tomorrow's probably going to be crazier."

Jamie laughed lightly. "I have a feeling crazy is about to become the new norm."

Mitch grunted an agreement as he flipped through the book absently. "Crazy and impossible," he intoned. "I have to say, my life was a lot less interesting last week."

She didn't laugh, and he glanced up nervously at her intense stare. Not for the first time he wished he knew what to say instead of the snarky comments he usually made. She stood up and made her way to the door, and Mitch cursed inwardly. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, half-turning to catch his eyes as he watched her leave.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here." She left him to his solitude then, letting the door fall closed behind her with a soft click. Mitch stared after her for a few moments trying to remember if anyone had ever paid him a better compliment. He wanted to go after her, to tell her that it was worth quite a lot to him, but his feet wouldn't cooperate. Instead he flopped back on the mountain of pillows that seemed to be a staple of higher end hotels, all thoughts of his book forgotten.

Mitch's prediction about the next day had actually fallen a bit short of the mark. Crazy had compounded on top of impossible to give him something resembling the most frustratingly chaotic day he'd had in recent memory. They'd managed to get a wolf - ironically thanks to the hunters he'd decried the day before. They used a belt to muzzle it, then staunched the flow of blood with a sock. It growled at them weakly but didn't try to attack. He and Abe were just trying to figure out how they were going to get it back to the SUV when Chloe and Jackson emerged from the treeline.

Mitch glanced around expectantly, but when a third person didn't materialize he turned to a rather disheveled looking Chloe. "Where's Jamie?"

"She's with the widow of one of Hartley's victims," she explained.

"On her own?" A gnawing worry in his gut began and wouldn't let up as he thought about all the ways this was a bad idea.

"She'll be fine," Chloe reassured him. "I see you've found a wolf."

"Shot by hunters," Abraham confirmed. "We were just contemplating how to get it back to the vehicle without hurting it further. Luckily for us, we have just acquired extra man power."

Jackson grimaced and rolled up his sleeves. "Lucky us."

Worry for Jamie and the memory of the phone conversation with Audra made him grumpy and irritable on the ride back to the hotel. Abraham wisely didn't try to pursue any small talk with him, choosing instead to scan the radio for an acceptable soundtrack for their drive. He settled on a classic rock station, singing along with a few of them as Mitch stared out the window. He'd sent Jamie a text the moment he'd gotten back to the car, but she hadn't replied yet. He was toying with the idea of calling her when they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel.

"How are we going to get this thing up to the hotel room?" Chloe asked warily. Mitch cast his eyes around, taking in the surrounding area and the items available. He found an abandoned luggage cart sitting off to the side, and he wheeled it over to the far side of the vehicle where they would be out of sight of the front doors. Jackson helped from the inside as Abraham and Chloe formed a human barrier, and between them they managed to get the animal on the cart. Mitch draped his coat over it, hiding it from view, but they still moved quickly through the lobby.

By unspoken agreement, they used Mitch's room as the lab. The wolf was moved from the cart to the spare bed, and they all winced as a little blood began staining the sheets.

"Delavane is gonna have one hell of a bill," Mitch quipped. "Okay, I need something knock this guy out, two coconuts and a car battery." The list sounded ludicrous to his ears, but he'd been thinking about it since they'd found the wolf. It was the simplest way to test the wolf's blood.

"What?" Jackson looked from the wolf to Mitch.

"Why?" Chloe asked.

"Do you want me to explain it all or get it done?" he shot back, still tense from the lack of communication with Jamie. The other three seemed to sense his mood and Jackson held up his hands.

"I'll go see if the bar has coconuts."

"And I will go pull the battery from the rental car," Chloe added. They left quickly, obviously eager to get away from Mitch's attitude. When they were gone, Abraham chuckled quietly.

"She is fine, Mitch. As I understand it, Jamie is a formidable journalist. Surely one widow isn't much of a threat."

Mitch grabbed the coffee pot from the top of the mini-fridge and scowled at the layer of dust coating it. "Do me a favor. Clean that." He handed it back to Abraham without looking. While he was busy at the small sink set into the wall, Mitch checked his phone once again. Still nothing. He was about to press the call button when the door opened and Jackson came back through.

"No coconuts," he shrugged. "But one of the bellhops said he'd track some down." He set a few glass containers on the table in front of Mitch. "I did manage to snag these from the bar, though. Thought you might need them."

"Thanks," Mitch nodded, inspecting the glass jars appreciatively. They were almost like the beakers he had back at the zoo. Jackson had also grabbed some sleeping pills from the small store in the lobby. Now he needed a dropper, tongs and something to stir with. "Can you go ask the kitchen staff?"

"I will go," Abraham interjected. "That way they will not wonder at so many odd requests from one person."

"Whatever," Mitch waved at him absently. He rummaged through his bag and produced four latex gloves, then turned to Jackson. "Guess that makes you my assistant for the day."

By the time Abraham returned they had situated the wolf on a few hotel towels with only minimal growling and whining. Mitch quickly crushed the pills and mixed them with water to make a paste which he force fed the wolf through the belted muzzle. The beast struggled but Abraham held its mouth closed until it swallowed the medicine. Soon it was unconscious and Mitch hoped he hadn't just killed the poor guy. Chloe came back in with the car battery and Mitch instructed Abraham how to set it up so that they were ready when the coconuts arrived. Chloe's phone rang as they were working, and she stepped out to take it as Mitch moved back to the bed.

"Alright," he gestured to Jackson who was ready with a sterilized steak knife and every washcloth they could scrounge from the three rooms. They removed the blood soaked sock that had acted as a makeshift bandage and set to work removing the bullet from the gaping wound. Mitch handed Jackson a flashlight and traded him for the knife as a foul odor drifted up, making them gag through the shirts they'd tied around their faces.

"Blood's infected," Mitch pointed out. "That's...interesting."

"Why is it interesting?" Abraham asked from his spot by the door.

"Because he hasn't been wounded long enough for this level of infection to set it. He was likely infected before he was injured, probably by some kind of bacteria."

"That's what we're testing for?" Jackson asked as he collected a sample of blood in the newly cleansed baster.

Mitch grumbled at the chatter. "I'm worrying about the bullet still lodged in his side right now." He used the knife to slice a larger hole in the wolf's hide. Using his gloved fingers he probed in the wound until he found where the bullet had lodged between two ribs. "Light," he ordered, nodding so Jackson would kneel and aim his flashlight into the incision.

His phone chimed on the table across the room, and Mitch glanced up from his work to Abraham. "Grab that, will ya? It's probably Jamie."

Abraham smiled knowingly and pressed the green answer button. "Hello?"

Mitch divided his attention between the surgery and the phone call. Abraham was being unhelpfully quiet as Jamie spoke, and Mitch clenched his jaw as he forced himself to do his job. The bullet hadn't broken the rib, but it had probably fractured it. He used the tongs to get a hold of it, pulling gently until it came free. He set the slug on the towel next to the wolf and began sewing the wound closed with the needle and thread from Chloe's personal bag.

"Okay, be careful," Abraham said before hanging up. Mitch looked up sharply as the larger man set his phone back on the table. "Jamie is returning to the prison to inspect Hartley's cell. She believes he may have left clues as to why his behavior changed so rapidly."

"How the hell is she going to get inside without Chloe?" Mitch wondered aloud.

"She is resourceful," Abraham answered. "She is confident that she will be able to get access to his cell. I did not ask how."

"Of course you didn't," Mitch mumbled snidely. If Jackson heard him he didn't say anything, but he saw Abraham tried to hide a smile behind his hand as he faked a cough.

"Alright," Mitch snapped his gloves off and inspected his handy work. It would scar something horrible, but given his limited supplies he felt he'd done fairly well. "Now to test the blood." He took the small container Jackson had procured and squeezed the blood sample from the baster. He was stirring as Chloe came back from her phone call.

One destroyed hotel room later, Mitch felt like they had another piece of this enormous puzzle. The bacteria had reacted just the way he'd theorized it would, meaning it was causing the wolves' aberrant behavior. What was causing the bacteria, however, was a new mystery. He'd contacted Animal Control and reported the injured wolf before gathering all of his things and high-tailing it out of the hotel with the others. Safe to say, they likely wouldn't be welcome back at that establishment - or maybe even Biloxi - ever again.

Another piece of good news came as he was getting everything together. Jamie had contacted Chloe, who directed the journalist to not return to the hotel. They arranged to meet at the car rental agency, and as he sat in the back of the SUV Mitch tried to keep his leg from bouncing in anticipation.

 _Get a grip_ , he scolded himself. It hadn't even been a full day, and Jamie was more than capable of taking care of herself. Still, they'd spent the last week or so in each other's company and he was growing accustomed to seeing her face. Knowing she was out there on her own made his stomach ache.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry?" Chloe asked from the seat next to him. Mitch shook his head and kept his eyes out the window. They were just a few blocks from the car rental place, and as Chloe pulled into the garage he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Jamie's slight frame standing off to the side.

"What happened?" she asked as they piled out of the car. Her eyes sought Mitch's immediately, and he gave her a reassuring smile as he noticed her giving him a once over.

"Deputy Kraft didn't find Evan Lee Hartley and is looking for someone to blame," Chloe answered.

"I found this," she held up a small book and spoke in that rapid pace that meant she was keyed up about something she thought was important. "It's his...Hartley's. It was in his cell." Chloe took it from her and began flipping through the pages. "The guy underlined every reference to animals in the Bible. I mean every single one."

Seeing her had quieted the restlessness he'd been feeling all day, but rather than voice his relief he fell back on his time-tested snark. "Well, he was on death row. Bible comes in very handy on death row."

She dug into her back pocket and produced another small paper. "I also found this." Mitch craned his neck as she passed it to Chloe, surprised to see a photo of a younger Hartley smiling next to another man who looked vaguely familiar.

"That's Evan Lee Hartley," Chloe pointed out. Next to her, Jackson had stiffened and reached for the picture with trembling fingers. "What is it Jackson? Do you recognize the other guy?"

"That's my father," Jackson glanced up at them in shock.

Mitch groaned inwardly and ran a hand over his face. "Alright, question and answer time is over. We need to get out of here before Animal Control gets to the hotel and the entire city cancels the wolf cull and starts hunting us."

"What happened at the hotel?" Jamie couldn't resist asking a question, even as they piled into the SUV. Abraham took the driver's seat again, leaving Jamie in the middle seat between Mitch and Chloe. Jackson sat silently in the passenger seat, his fingers still clutching the photograph.

As they drove Mitch tried to explain the events of the day to Jamie, and at one point he saw her trying to stifle a smile. "What?" he asked.

"You're like MacGyver meets the Professor from _Gilligan's Island,_ " she commented. "I can't believe you managed all of that with literally no scientific equipment." He thought he heard a touch of awe in her voice, though that could have been wishful thinking on his part. "So we know the bacteria was causing the odd behavior in the wolves. What kind of bacteria is it?"

"I don't know," Mitch admitted. "But I have an idea of where we can find out. Chloe, can we take this car to Alabama?"

" _Oui_ , I believe so," she answered. "If I may ask, what is in Alabama?"

For a moment he thought about telling them the truth. Then he remembered all the reasons that was a bad idea. "A lab we can use." He didn't want to tell them about the small town they'd moved to after his parents had divorced, about how his mother had lived in near poverty after his dad had left, or how Mitch had left her behind just as soon as possible to get away from the narrow-minded, backwards townsfolk. He guessed his old high school probably hadn't changed much - funding for education wasn't a big priority in Alabama - and he knew he could likely get into one of the Chem labs and out again before the morning bell.

Chloe called Delavane after asking him the name of the town, and in the front Abraham was concentrating on the road as Jackson stared at the photo.

With the others occupied, Jamie leaned in close to him and whispered. "You alright?"

She must have picked up on his mood change, but he really didn't want to dredge up ancient history. On top of it, the phone call he'd gotten earlier from Audra had begun to gnaw at him. Clem was getting worse. Of course, he hadn't actually told Jamie about Clem, or Audra, and he didn't want to bring it up now.

So instead he clenched his teeth and exhaled sharply through his nose. "Fine," he told her, his head turned to glare out the window. He felt her eyes on him for a moment longer before she sensed he didn't want to talk about it and pulled out her phone.

As her right hand thumbed through the day's news, her left fell to her lap and slid over to where their legs were pressed against each other in the cramped bench seat of the SUV. He felt the heat from her hand through his jeans and barely resisted the urge to let his fingers slide over hers. Still, the contact on his leg was sure and comforting and he took a few steadying breaths before letting his head fall back against the headrest wearily. Before his eyes slipped closed he felt her fingers curl ever so slightly against the rough fabric of his jeans in a light caress, and he fell asleep with a sigh.


	5. Blame it on Leo - The Lion's Share

Chapter 5: Blame it on Leo - The Lion's Share

 _Mitch discovers something interesting about the bacteria in the wolf's brain while Jamie discovers something else entirely._

* * *

"The website says first bell is at 8:30," Jamie looked up at Mitch. "You sure you can get in and out in time?"

"Yeah," Mitch had limited himself to one word answers ever since they'd arrived in Atmore, Alabama. They'd driven up 65 in near silence, save for Jackson's musings on why Evan Lee Hartley was in a photo with his father. Chloe and Abe had tried to get more information out of him, but Mitch had adamantly avoided every question. Jamie's reporter senses were telling her there was a story here - one he didn't want to see the light of day. Shoving her curiosity to the side for a moment, she decided to give him some breathing room.

"Alright," she turned to Chloe, "we are running woefully short on clean clothes and food. Mitch and I can handle the lab, why don't the three of you gather supplies and find a laundromat?" It was unlike Jamie to take charge so suddenly, and Chloe raised one delicate eyebrow. Her eyes shifted between reporter and scientist, her mouth opening to make some comment.

"I can do laundry," Abraham offered quickly. "I dislike shopping."

"Okay," Chloe finally agreed, "Jackson and I will resupply while the two of you test the blood and Abraham washes the clothes." She shot the larger man a teasing smile which he returned easily. "We will pick the two of you up at the school at 8:30 and meet Abraham at the restaurant on the corner by 9 to go over the results?" Everyone nodded in agreement or at least didn't argue, so Chloe bid them goodnight and retreated to the room across the hall. Mitch stood as well, having once again snagged a solo room. Jamie followed him into the hall and shut the door to Jackson and Abe's room before reaching for his sleeve.

"Hey, you alright?" He stopped and turned, his eyes darting around in an effort to keep from looking her in the eye. Jamie guessed he really didn't want to talk about it. "I just thought, maybe…"

"It's alright," Mitch ran a hand down his face, then back up through his hair. "I just didn't think I'd ever come back here."

Jamie had guessed Mitch had some sort of history with the town. "You grew up here?"

"No," Mitch shook his head. "After my parents divorced, my mom and I landed here. She knew a guy who knew a guy who got her a job at the high school."

Jamie smiled at this piece of the puzzle that made up Mitch Morgan. "Your mom was a teacher," she didn't sound surprised. For all he touted being a creature of solitude and staunchly against people as a whole, he seemed to really enjoy teaching. It stood to reason that one of his parents did as well.

He relaxed a little, his stance a little less defensive as he answered her non-question. "Chemistry."

"Is that where you got the science bug from?"

His entire demeanor shifted then and his eyes clouded over. "I'm really tired. I'll see you in the morning." He turned to escape to his room, and Jamie felt guilty for bringing up what was obviously a bad memory.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. He paused at his door and Jamie saw his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh.

"Me, too," he glanced at her. "Do you, uh...want a drink?" He nodded his head sideways in invitation, and Jamie jumped at it.

"Yeah," she propelled herself forward and through the door as he opened it a held for her. His messenger bag was tossed onto the single bed, and he cleared it out of the way and gestured for her to sit. This hotel wasn't nearly as fancy as the one in Biloxi, and the small room barely had room for the bed, the chest of drawers, and the small mini fridge. Mitch opened it and pulled out two beers from the six pack he'd bought earlier when they'd stopped for gas. He twisted the top off of the first and handed it to Jamie before opening his own. He turned and leaned back against the dresser, taking long drinks as they sat in a heavy silence.

"Is your mom still alive?" Jamie asked finally. "I didn't think before…"

"What?" Mitch's brow wrinkled in confusion, then flattened as he shook his head. "Yeah, she's still alive. She lives in California now. It's one of the reasons I took the job at the L.A. Zoo, so I could be near her."

"That's nice," Jamie smiled. Then, because she couldn't handle the tension that had settled between them, she continued. "I was afraid...I mean, because of the way you reacted...I thought maybe she wasn't and I had brought it up -"

"No, she's good," Mitch interrupted her rambling. "My father is a scientist - of sorts," he added under his breath. "I used to want to be just like him, until I found out he had been cheating on my mom with just about every co-ed he could lay his hands on." He took another drink. "And her best friend."

Jamie grimaced. "Ouch. I'm sorry." Her mind recalled a conversation they'd had back at Poor Boy Lloyd's and she canted her head. "That's what you meant about having the market cornered on horrible fathers."

"Yeah, he's a peach." Mitch finished his beer and went for another. Jamie shook her head as he offered her a second; she was only halfway through her first. "I've pretty much cut off all contact with him. Haven't spoken to him in...eleven years?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Jamie tried to remember that last time she'd spoken to her dad. He'd left just before her mother had died, and no one had been able to find him to tell him that Nancy had passed or that his daughter needed him. Jamie wondered if he was even still alive.

"This is fun," Mitch drawled. "Here I have a beautiful woman in my hotel room and I'm depressing the both of us by digging up ancient history."

Jamie blushed at his compliment. "You're not depressing me," she told him. "It's nice to know there's more to you than science and snark."

His self-deprecating laugh filled the space, and he toasted her with his drink. "I hate to disappoint you, but that is pretty much all there is."

She stood then, hitching her hip against the dresser next to him as he turned toward her. "No it isn't." His eyes followed her movement as she set her bottle down on the cheap wood top. She'd promised herself on their flight to Tokyo that she wouldn't actively pursue anything more between them, but if things progressed naturally she wouldn't try to shy away. Seeing his hangdog expression and hearing his obviously low opinion of himself ignited something inside of her. Could he honestly not see how wonderful he'd been since the day they'd met? He'd pretty much put his life on hold to help a stranger, and then with very little convincing he'd flown halfway across the country and stood beside her as her world had come crashing down. Deciding that she'd had quite enough of his self-doubt, she forged ahead with the thoughts in her head. "And you couldn't disappoint me."

His eyes snapped up to hers, hesitant and searching. She let him look, resisting the urge to drop her gaze or step away. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he shuffled a step closer, and she pushed away from the dresser to meet him halfway. His hand was cool on her arm, damp from the condensation of the bottle he'd abandoned. His lips were different.

Jamie inhaled deeply as he kissed her, feeling his fingers slide through her hair to cradle her head. Her own hands settled on his waist, and just as he started to pull away she began kissing him back. Time fell away from them as they stood in the tiny hotel room, each learning the other as they molded their bodies together.

Only the late hour and the realization that Jackson and Abe were literally feet away through a very thin wall allowed Jamie to keep her head. She pulled away first, letting her head fall against his jaw as she leaned into him. His arms banded over her shoulders to pull her flush against him in an embrace that echoed that day in the graveyard.

"I should get back to my room," she muttered without making any real attempt to let him go. She had to admit - at least to herself - that it felt good to let him hold her.

He hummed in response and tightened his hold, causing them both to laugh quietly. She pushed back and slid her hands from his waist to his chest, letting one travel further to press against his cheek. His eyes looked better - brighter than they had before - and Jamie felt giddy at the prospect of being responsible for it.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Her hand fell away as she stepped back. He followed her to the door and opened it for her, standing in the doorway as she walked across the hallway to her own room. She slid the plastic key card into the slot and waited for the beep. As she turned the handle, Jamie glanced back over her shoulder and smiled at Mitch. He answered it with one of his own and waved as she stepped into her room and closed the door.

Escambia County High School was located in the southeast corner of town, just off of Presley Street. Chloe dropped Jamie and Mitch off on Lindberg with a promise to return at 8:30 to get them.

"We'll be here," Jamie promised. She closed the door and turned to Mitch, who was staring at the building with a grimace on his face. He wasn't happy to be back. "Let's go," she urged him forward with a nod of her head, leading him across the street and through the open fence line to a back entrance. Just as Mitch had said, the doors were open.

"They offer breakfast to low-income students, so the doors open at 7:30," he'd said. Jamie checked her watch. It was twenty minutes to eight.

"Where to?" she asked.

"Science labs are up on the second floor in the east wing." He started off, leaving Jamie to trail behind him a few steps. "Or at least they used to be," he added over his shoulder.

There was no one around, but Mitch had her stand guard anyway. "I'll put my phone on speaker so we can talk, but the test should take about twenty minutes if everything goes right."

"So thirty to forty minutes," Jamie joked. "Got it."

He smiled flatly. "Be careful." He left her on a walkway over the atrium after indicating which direction the students would be coming from. She dialed his number and listened as he snuck into one of the labs. She could hear him tinkering with equipment and resisted the urge to ask him how it was going. He muttered something, but she was pretty sure he was talking to himself rather than to her.

She glanced around at the school, amused to see this one looked like hers. Oh, the layout was different (hers had been only one story), but some things seemed to be universal where secondary schools were concerned. She could see the hallways dotted with flyers for an upcoming play, as well as posters for Student Council candidates. A large banner hung on the walkway opposite her, and she smiled at the clever slogan the author had devised for their Friday night matchup.

"Maul the Tigers?" she read aloud.

"Huh?"

"The sign out here reads 'Maul the Tigers,'" she explained.

"Thomasville Tigers," Mitch explained. "Football rival."

"Ah," Jamie spun in a circle aimlessly. She knew that the quieter she was, the faster Mitch could work. Fifteen minutes later, she couldn't stand it anymore. "Anything yet?"

"Nope," he answered absently. "Prep takes a while, Jamie. I'm just getting to the microscope."

"Okay," she glanced around nervously. Sneaking into places she didn't belong was almost a prerequisite skill for a reporter, but this wasn't just some story for the paper. This was quite literally her life's work, and that set her nerves on edge. She paced two circuits of the walkway, checking her watch at each end. It was getting dangerously close to 8:30.

"Anything yet?"

"You know what's guaranteed to make this go faster, Jamie? You saying 'anything yet' every 25 seconds."

"Okay, I know," she huffed. "I know, but we're -"

"Running out of time," he said with her. "I know." There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Hey, now."

"What?" she kept her eyes glancing around as she tried to focus on his words. "What is it?"

"Looks like a kind of Alcanivorax bacteria. The kind they use to clean up oil spills - eats hydrocarbons."

That was odd. "Okay, well how did it wind up in the blood of a wolf?"

"The usual way," he answered, his voice dipping into that teacher tone he used sometimes. "It went from a primary consumer all the way to a tertiary consumer."

She understood the words he used, but their meaning went over her head. "Professor, remember your audience," she teased. "I spent every one of my science classes thinking about my English homework."

"The food web," he went on, "chain reaction." Then a sound came over the line she hadn't expected. He started singing. " _There was an old lady who swallowed a cat…_ " She listened anxiously as he finished the silly children's song, torn between wanting to tell him to be quiet so he wouldn't get caught and letting him enjoy his moment. He almost made it through when the bell rang.

She jumped at the sound. "Mitch, did you hear that? Let's go."

"Hang on a second," he said quietly. "I think I've got something."

Jamie could hear the faint footsteps and the susurrus that heralded a mob of teenagers on the other side of the double doors. "Mitch, we really gotta go."

"Yup, on my way." She heard him shuffling things around, hopefully packing his stuff away. When she didn't hear the slam of a door she got worried.

"Mitch, we are going to get caught!" she whispered harshly. The doors at the end of the hall opened, admitting the throng of students. Jamie turned away from them and began walking away quickly. "We have to get out of here right now!" He didn't answer. "Mitch! Move!" She made her way back through the halls to the door they'd come in, pressing herself against the wall in an effort to avoid being seen by any teachers or students that were milling about at the other end of the hall. Mitch rounded an intersection halfway up and she breathed a sigh of relief. He grabbed her hand as they bolted through the door and out into the courtyard. A glance back over her shoulder reassured her that no one had seen them, and that Mitch was grinning like a fool.

A black sedan was waiting for them, and Jamie let go of Mitch's hand as they raced through the fence line and toward the car. As she slid into the seat behind Chloe she heard Mitch's smug voice. "Slipping out without getting caught by the teacher. Takes me back."

"Skip a lot of classes, professor?" she teased as Jackson drove them away from the school.

"Only my English classes," he fired back, earning him a bright smile.

"What did you find?" Chloe asked, turning in her seat to look at Mitch.

"The bacteria is one of the types they use to clean up oil spills. Specifically, this one is designed to eat hydrocarbons."

"What does that mean?" Jackson glanced in the rearview.

"Perhaps we should wait until we meet with Abraham," Chloe said before Mitch could launch into a lecture. Jamie laughed and patted his knee sympathetically as he sank back into his seat with a frown.

Abraham was already waiting at a table when they arrived at the restaurant. Mitch explained once more about the bacteria and what it was for. Then, because he couldn't resist a lecture, he added, "Once I increased the magnification I saw a chemical signature. A string of benign molecules that have no bearing on the bacteria whatsoever."

Jamie sighed and laid her hand on his forearm. "Audience, Mitch. Remember it."

He glared at her half-heartedly out of the corner of his eye and clarified. "It means the bacteria was man-made. And it was signed by the chemist who created it."

"Then we need to talk to this chemist," Abraham put in.

"Not that easy," Mitch sat back. "Think of the signature as a graffiti tag. I saw it, but I still have no idea who painted it on the wall."

"So we're at a dead end," Jamie frowned.

"Not yet," Mitch tapped the table with two fingers. "I forwarded the signature to a guy I know at MIT. He might be able to come up with an ID for us."

Off to the side, Chloe finished with her phone conversation and came striding over purposefully. "Pack your bags," she told them. "We're going to Rio."

"We" turned out to be Chloe, Mitch, and Abraham. Jamie packed her things quickly, thankful that Chloe was downstairs arranging everything and not present to hear her complaining about her assignment. A knock on her door interrupted her grumbling, and she yanked open the door a bit more forcefully than she intended. Mitch stood on the other side with a startled expression. She turned away and continued packing as he stepped inside and closed the door.

"You okay?"

"Great," she snapped. "I get to babysit Jackson while you three get to go to Rio."

"Jackson needs someone to help him track down Leo Butler. You're really the best person for the job."

She whirled around with her hairbrush in hand, jabbing it at him accusingly. "Don't you dare try to make me feel better with flattery and logic rationalizations. I'm ranting." He held up his hands in defeat and said nothing else as she finished throwing her things into her rolling suitcase. She struggled to zip it, growling in frustration as she could only close it halfway.

"You know," Mitch said as he came up behind her, "this would zip a lot easier if you folded everything." He reached around her and pushed the top down, allowing her to finish pulling the zipper all the way around the case. She glared at him, but he just smiled back at her and took her hand when she finished. "Listen, I know you want to come. I don't much like the idea of being a continent away while you and Jackson search for a phantom. But finding things that don't want to be found is something you're good at. Your skills are more useful here."

She slid the luggage from the bed to the floor, wincing at the loud thud that seemed to echo into the room beneath them. "I don't even know where to start."

"Start with Reiden," Mitch answered easily. "Leo Butler was a chemist that worked for them, then suddenly vanished. Start with his last project and work from there." She knew all of this already - she even had several ideas about how to get her hands on some internal documents. But pretending she didn't kept her from blurting out the one thing that had been on her mind since Chloe announced they would be splitting the team again. She didn't want to sound too...needy? Clingy? Whatever it was that had come over her last night and pushed her to kiss him had settled firmly in her gut and refused to leave. In the restaurant she had been overcome with an urge to demand she go to Rio and let Chloe stay with Jackson, but prudence and embarrassment at the way that demand could be received had kept her quiet.

She'd been quiet too long, she realized as Mitch shifted his weight to take a step back. "When does your flight leave?" she asked suddenly.

"Uh," Mitch glanced at the bedside clock, "Chloe said something about leaving for the airport at two." It was just a little before eleven now, leaving them almost two full hours with nothing to do. Thoughts of ways to fill that time entered her head, and she coughed to hide the hitch in her chest those mental images gave her. She waved off his look of concern and fished her water bottle from the bedside table. After a few drinks she screwed the top back on and shook off the last of the flustering thoughts.

"Wanna watch some tv?" Jamie offered lamely. She turned and switched her bottle for the remote. She aimed it around his body, jumping as a rather boisterous infomercial blared from the speaker. She jammed the volume down button and winced apologetically, but Mitch just laughed.

"Whoever was in here before you must have been a deaf spinster." He reached down and moved her suitcase to the far wall before coming back and settling on the bed. He adjusted the pillows to rest comfortably against the headboard, charmingly bolted into the wall to prevent theft (or possibly ruining the paint job from any vigorous activities). With that thought once more planted in her head, Jamie kicked off her shoes and sat next to him. Their shoulders brushed as he made room, and she felt his eyes on her as she flipped through the channels for anything to watch.

She settled on an old black and white - a favorite of her aunt's - and tried not to think about the warmth he radiated or the smell of his sandalwood deodorant that mingled with the soap from the hotel bathroom. She tried to focus on her upcoming task, to plan her moves and be ready when Jackson inevitably turned to her to find Butler. But she couldn't seem to focus on anything but Mitch's steady, even breaths next to her or the rustle of his clothing as he shifted to a more comfortable position. Her mind jumped to his part of the mission - bats in Rio - and she frowned at the memory of Jackson and Abe's near miss in Japan.

"What?"

She turned her head at the sound of his voice. He looked as surprised as she did that he'd spoken; obviously he'd been staring at her and had seen the change on her face. He seemed embarrassed for having been caught out but his question was out there. He continued to look at her, obviously waiting a response.

"What, what?" she asked.

"You looked upset for a moment," he clarified.

"Oh, I was just thinking about -" She cut herself off, unsure if she should admit how concerned she was. Knowing he wouldn't let up until she said something, she went ahead. "I was thinking about Jackson and Abe's plane crash," she told him. "They were lucky."

"They were also a lot lower to the ground," Mitch explained. "Commercial planes fly at 35,000 feet. Bats can't get up that high."

"What about when you land?" Jamie rushed on. "If they swarm the plane -"

"Hey," he turned slightly on the bed, bending his left leg so he could face her, "nothing's going to happen. Jackson's plane was small, we're going on a jetliner. It would take a lot of bats to take out even one engine. And landing is pretty much just controlled gliding anyway, right?" She wasn't entirely convinced, but she didn't want him to worry about her too much so she dropped it. He turned back to rest against the headboard, this time a lot closer than he had been. Jamie leaned forward to let him slide an arm around her, tucking her against his side. "Besides," he added quietly, "you're not getting rid of me that easily." His voice in her ear made her shiver, and she delighted in the contented sigh he breathed against her cheek before she turned and laid it against his chest.

His fingers trailed up and down her arm lazily, lulling her into a sleepy haze as the movie droned on in the background. When her eyes snapped open again he was shifting to reach for the remote, and she glanced at the clock with a groan. She had fallen asleep and their two hours were up.

"Time to go," she slurred, pushing up to sit as he slid off the other side of the bed. She followed him to the door and tugged on his sleeve just as he reached for the knob. When he turned around she surprised them both by surging up on her toes and kissing him soundly. He hummed in approval against her lips, responding eagerly to her for a moment. When he broke the kiss they were breathing a little more heavily.

"Call me when you land," she breathed.

"Yeah," he agreed. He squeezed her arm once more before leaving her alone in the hotel room. Jamie shook off the lingering effects of his kiss and set to work tracking down Leo Butler. Maybe if they could find him quickly, they could join the others in Rio.

Mitch didn't call when they landed but he did text. Chloe had set them straight to work and he'd had no time to step away for even a quick phone call. Jamie had answered the text with one of her own, filling him in as quickly as possible about the developments on her end - including the addition of Agent Schaffer to their merry band. A few minutes later her phone pinged, and Jamie stifled a smile at his reply.

 _Chloe says there's something off about him and to be careful what you tell him. Don't go falling for tall, dumb, and handsome._

Jamie had felt it, too - the little niggling feeling at the base of her neck whenever Schaffer walked into the room. She'd often referred to it as her "reporter sense," and it had led her to quite a few amazing stories. Around Schaffer it was buzzing full blast. Even without Chloe's warning, Jamie was reluctant to let him in on everything.

That last part, though, had probably not come from Chloe. She could imagine Mitch scowling at his phone as he typed, mumbling to himself that he wasn't jealous he was just looking out for them. Jamie tucked her phone back into her pocket and smiled to herself as they made their way to where Schaffer said Butler lived. She had a feeling it was going to be a good day.


	6. What it Sounds Like - Facing the Music

Chapter 6: This is What it Sounds Like - Facing the Music

 _Mitch's imminent death in Rio forces him to face his demons, including the guilt about Clementine. Jamie discovers Ben's true colors, and faces an ugly truth about herself in the aftermath._

This will be the first time I split the installment between the two of them. There's just too much going on during both storylines not to address everything. Still, we'll start in _medias res_.

* * *

Mitch under his breath cursed for the third time. Chloe's little plot to buy them time - and thus buy Abraham time - was risky and foolish. Still, it had led him to the wonderful idea of building an oscillator out of what basically amounted to discarded parts from an electronic store. He soldered the last piece together and carefully clipped the cover shut just as Silva burst through the door.

"Your time is up, _veterinário_." Mitch stood and carefully angled his body between the man with the gun and Chloe.

"Look," Mitch held his hands up as meekly as possible, "if I had more time, better equipment, I could make something that would keep the bats away for...a long time." He was hesitant to say forever. He wasn't even sure if the thing would work at all. He _definitely_ wasn't going to say that.

Silva laughed coldly. "As I said, you do not have more time. We will see if your device works. If it does, you will be free to go as soon as you instruct my men on its construction. If it doesn't…" He smiled and shrugged. "Either way you will not have to worry about the bats anymore, huh?"

Silva's thugs scooped up the mess of equipment from the table, ignoring Mitch's protest to be careful. They stomped out, leaving Mitch and Chloe with their single guard once more. Chloe sank back down in her chair as Mitch did the same.

"If your machine doesn't work, he's gonna kill us."

Mitch scowled out of the corner of his eye. "Full disclosure," he returned quietly, "I'm not exactly hopeful that my awesome oscillator's gonna do anything but fizzle." It had been a while since his electrical engineering classes, which had been more a distraction from his intense vet studies than anything else. Still, he was relatively certain he'd built it correctly despite the joke that Silva had deemed his "supplies."

"Why do you do that?" Chloe tilted her head curiously.

He knew what she meant. He had a bad habit of being brutally honest at the best of times. At the worst, it was the only way he knew how to cope with the anger, frustration, and fear. Still, he couldn't help it. "Because it's the truth," he told her evenly.

"It's not the truth," she shook her head, leaning in and pressing her point. "It's what you choose to believe because it's easier than having hope." He snorted derisively. _Hope_. He'd long since given up on the concept, abandoned the pretense that things could get better when the cold hard truth was so much easier to face. He liked knowing the truth, liked hearing and processing it. Then he could deal with it. Then he could plan. Hope was useless.

Chloe didn't seem to sense his derision, or chose to ignore it. "You hide behind logic," she professed. "You think emotions are for the weak. But it's all a defense; please don't pretend that it's not."

She seemed to be waiting for something, for him, and after a few seconds of silence he relented. "You know, a long time ago there was a point in time I was...I was kind of a big deal. But ego is like having a hot girlfriend; a lot of maintenance." He sighed, mostly to dispel the mocking tone he'd adopted. "I published a study that wasn't fully cooked yet, and I got my ass kicked." It had been a last ditch effort to draw attention to the disease that threatened to snuff out Clem's light. It hadn't worked. "So the truth is, I've been dead for three years. Today's just gonna make it official."

He wanted to tell her about Jamie, about how the plucky journalist had sifted through the dismal ashes of his life and stoked the fire in him again. About how he regretted - now, more than ever - not spending those last two hours doing something other than watching her sleep. But it seemed too personal, too raw. And so when Chloe mentioned his daughter he ran with it, venting the frustration he felt at being absolutely _useless_. He was smart; smarter than the average bear, his mother had always said. But all of his intelligence and connections and grit didn't matter. Clem was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"You know, there's an expression in French that says, 'Nothing weighs more than a secret.' I think you should talk to her." Mitch knew she meant Clem, that he should reach out and reconnect with his daughter before it was too late. Still, he couldn't help but prescribe a different meaning to her words. He thought of Jamie again, and suddenly he wished he could talk to her. If this was going to be his last day, he'd like it to end by hearing her voice one more time.

A phone rang in the silence, and Mitch turned as their guard answered. " _Sí_ ," he spoke loudly. "Okay," he nodded and hung up. He turned toward them and Mitch's heart began pounding in his chest. For a brief moment he thought about rushing forward. Perhaps he could grab the gun before the other man could shoot him. At the very least, Chloe would have a shot at escape during the tussle.

"Silva wants to see you."

Mitch's muscles relaxed in confusion. "What? It actually worked?"

" _Mitch_ ," Chloe nudged him from behind. "He's not killing us, is he?"

"Not yet," he whispered back. "Maybe Silva just wants to do it himself."

"Come on," the guard urged them out the door but didn't follow. This was enough to let Mitch breathe a little easier.

"We need to find Abraham," Chloe said immediately. Around them erupted a chorus of howls and barks that made both of them stop and look around. "Why are the dogs howling?"

Mitch let out a huff of relieved laughter. "They're reacting to the ultrasound frequency of the oscillator," he explained. "It worked," he added with a just a note of surprise. "I mean, I want to think it worked anyway."

"Come on," Chloe started walking again, eager to get away from the _favelas_ and back to Abraham. Mitch followed with a lighter step. Maybe there was something to that hope thing after all.

 _Atmore, Alabama_

Jamie sighed as the hot spray hit her aching muscles. She hadn't been in a car accident since she was in college, and that one hadn't been nearly as bad as this one. Every part of her ached and it didn't matter how many stretches she did. She winced as the cuts on her face were exposed to the water, washing away the last of the dirt and grime left over from the crash. Jackson had retreated downstairs to get drinks and to plan their next move. They needed to reunite with the others and discuss where to go from here. Now that they had the Mother Cell, things were looking a little brighter.

Jamie smiled as she thought about the precious treasure she'd hidden away. It was the her grail, the undeniable proof that Reiden Global was knowingly tampering with things they weren't supposed to. They would answer for everything, and Jamie felt a thrum of vindication course through her. It wasn't unlike the moment Mitch had discovered the change in the lion behavior at the zoo.

Thoughts of Mitch led her easily to the night before they'd left for Rio. Memory of the kisses they'd shared sent a different tendril of energy through her, and she closed her eyes as she remembered the softness of his lips on hers and the warmth of him as he'd held her. Her shower lasted a little longer than she'd planned, and as she stepped out onto the thin bath mat she heard someone knocking at her door.

Thinking it was Jackson, she wrapped a towel around her quickly and answered. She faltered for a moment as Ben Schaffer's gaze took her in.

"Oh," she managed. "Hey."

"Hey," he returned, making at least an effort to keep his eyes on hers. "Where's Jackson?" he asked glancing over her shoulder as though expecting to see the other man inside.

"Oh, uh, he's down in the coffee shop," she told him.

"What, no celebrating?" Ben's tone was cocky now, the triumphant FBI agent who had finally closed out his case.

"Well," she shrugged, "there are mitigating factors." She felt more than a little vulnerable standing there in only a towel, but she refused to let him see it.

"Oh, come on," Ben smiled easily. "You have the evidence to take down Reiden, right?"

"I guess it seems like it?" She wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this. She wished he would leave her alone so she could at least dress before they continued.

"So," he continued, either unaware or unsympathetic to her discomfort, "unless I'm missing something, it seems like your bad day turned out great." His eyes dropped again but darted up just as quickly. The suggestion was not lost on Jamie. "So ask me, you should be doing something about that."

He was flirting with her. If she wasn't standing almost naked in the hallway of a hotel, she might have laughed. Mitch's text came back to her and she stifled a smile. "You're just saying that because I'm wearing a towel." It was meant to be a dismissal, a subtle hint to let him know she needed to put some clothes on. He didn't get it.

"I'm not gonna lie; you are an excellent towel wearer." His smile turned into a leer as he leaned in slightly. "Among your other fine qualities." He leaned further and Jamie realized he was going to kiss her. Her hand came up between them and pressed against his chest. He stopped and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, "I'm just...sort of with someone."

"Jackson?" Schaffer guessed, and Jamie laughed.

"No," she shook her head. "Listen, I am flattered. But…"

"Not gonna happen," he shrugged one shoulder. "I get it." There was something there, though, just on the periphery. Jamie couldn't identify it, but she guessed it was something like disappointment.

Suddenly the tension between them evaporated and she laughed. "Come on in," she stepped back. "I'll get dressed and we'll go find Jackson."

"Sure." She left him standing in the small space between the door and the room proper as she retreated into the bathroom to dress. Once finished she stepped back out. He was still there and she slipped by him to find her shoes and her purse. Her cell rang as she was checking the time and she answered with a smile as she saw the name on the screen.

"Jackson, hey."

"Jamie, listen to me," he was frantic and Jamie's smile faded. "Ben killed the optometrist." Her heart began pounding hard at his words. Something had irked her when Ben had ushered them quickly out of the office, but she'd been so caught up in the moment that she hadn't analyzed it. The agent's presence behind her became looming and dangerous even though he remained on the other side of the room.

"Okay?" she tried not to sound fearful. She knew Ben was listening.

"He didn't call it into the field office," Jackson kept going, oblivious to her predicament. "He killed him."

Knowing her friend would likely take too long to catch her clues, she decided for something that sounded nonchalant. "I'm with Ben right now, actually." Then, because she realized that sounded bad, she added, "Uh, maybe we could all meet up later for dinner or -" Her phone was snatched from her hand and she gasped.

"You are a terrible liar," he whispered menacingly. She turned toward him and tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go. "Look, Jamie, I don't want to hurt you. Just give me the Mother Cell." He pressed forward and Jamie's fear ratcheted up to terror. "Now."

His arm shot out and gripped her fiercely, turning her toward the bed. For a moment a stab of cold dread hit her, and she couldn't help the soft sob that escaped as he pushed her face down onto the comforter. His body was heavy and oppressive over her as he leaned over. "I'm not going to hurt you," he confirmed, "just tell me where it is." She pressed her lips together, unwilling to give him the one thing that would finally lay her demons to rest. He sighed heavily and reached for the lamp on the nightstand. He used the cord to tie her up, her arms and legs bent at odd angles behind her back in a humiliating hogtie. She screamed at him as he stepped back, hoping maybe someone would hear, but when he carefully laid his hand against his holstered sidearm she shut up.

It didn't take him long to find the Mother Cell; the hotel room wasn't that large. He left her with a whispered apology, and the moment he was gone she began squirming and wriggling to free herself.

"Son of a bitch," she heard Jackson's faint voice. He'd obviously come to check on her and caught Ben leaving. She heard the race of footsteps as he chased the agent, and Jamie silently cheered. Jackson wouldn't let Ben escape with their only hope of figuring out what his father had been doing. She just hoped Ben wasn't dumb enough to draw his gun in the hotel, or use it to hurt Jackson. He was still an agent even if he was a crooked one. The muffled sound of a gunshot told her she'd been wrong; Ben didn't care about the consequences anymore.

She managed to get free and dashed out of her room, praying that Jackson was still okay. The only thing at the end of the hall was the stairwell, and she crashed through door as she heard the sounds of a scuffle a few flights down. At the next landing she saw Jackson lying under Ben, his face bloodied from a beating.

"Reiden paid you off didn't they?" Jackson growled.

"Get off him you son of a bitch." Jamie froze as Ben looked up at her and laughed. Jamie felt her blood boil at it, fury filling her at the easy way he dismissed her. Her eyes darted around frantically, finding his gun discarded halfway down the flight of stairs.

Jamie lunged for it a split second before Ben did, but it was enough. Jackson had rolled over, and when Jamie lifted the gun and fired Ben stumbled down the stairs and back into the wall. Anger and the sting of his betrayal kept her finger on the trigger, squeezing off five shots before the bile rose in the back of her throat. Her ears rang from the deafening sound of gunfire in a small area, and through the haze of anger she found Jackson's eyes.

He rose slowly, as though it hurt him to do so, and climbed the stairs to stand at her side. He reached out and took the gun from her and Jamie let him. Panic replaced the anger as she realized she'd just killed an FBI agent.

"Oh my god," she breathed. Jackson's hand was warm at her back, and she slammed her eyes closed as the nausea swept over her.

"We have to go," he whispered, ushering her back up the stairs. He tucked the gun into his waistband and quickly pulled her through the door into the hallway. "Get your things together; we need to leave now."

Jamie nodded mutely and dashed for her hotel room. Once inside, she lurched for the bathroom and emptied her stomach. Jackson's rapid knock came just a few moments later, and she let him in as she zipped her suitcase closed. Curious patrons had emerged in the halls, and Jamie could hear the insistent shouting coming from the stairs. Jackson, at least, seemed to have most of his wits around him. He craned his neck above the crowd and tried his best to sound unaware.

"What's going on?" he asked.

An older lady with dyed hair and far too much make up turned around with a wide-eyed expression. "They said someone's dead," she whispered conspiratorially. "They won't let anyone in the stairwell. There were gunshots earlier; didn't you hear?"

"My girlfriend and I were in our room," he gestured back where Jamie was trying her best not to catch anyone's eye. "Someone's dead?"

"That's what they said," the woman confirmed. She turned back around in the direction of the stairs and Jackson quietly stepped away.

"Come on," he jabbed the down button on the wall and pushed Jamie into the elevator when the doors opened. "We'll go to a coffee shop or something. Hopefully Chloe will call soon."

Soon turned out to be a few hours later, and by that time a full manhunt had shut the hotel down. It would take the police a while to piece things together, but Jamie knew it would only be a matter of time before they identified Ben's killer. Jackson and Jamie caught a bus to Mobile, where Chloe had arranged tickets for them to D.C. The team would reunite there and then head for their next destination, wherever that may be. The panic lessened only slightly as the jet lifted off the runway, and Jackson put his larger hand over hers when he caught them shaking.

"You okay?" he leaned over from the aisle seat with a worried frown. She cut her eyes over to him for a second then returned them to the shrinking landscape. Unable to find her voice, she merely nodded. He let her go and straightened, obviously responding to her body language. She felt bad for ignoring him, but there were too many thoughts swirling in her head for her to deal with any sort of personal interaction.

She managed to doze against the hard plastic of the plane's wall. Her head bounced hard it as they jolted on the runway at Dulles, and Jamie winced at the lingering soreness. She felt a little better for the rest, and she managed a ghost of a smile when Jackson asked his question again.

"I'm alright," she told him. "Just...ready to get this whole thing over with."

He nodded in agreement and shuffled down the narrow aisle as the passengers disembarked. She followed him up the jetway and into the airport proper. Chloe had texted Jackson and told them she, Abe, and Mitch had already landed and were waiting in the lounge. Mitch hadn't texted her since he'd landed in Rio two days ago, but she really didn't blame him. They had probably had their hands full with the bats, and she had been preoccupied with her own piece of the puzzle. By the time things had slowed down enough, she'd been in a car crash, they had the Mother Cell, and Ben was dead by her hand. None of it was appropriate to talk about over text.

Her steps carried her ahead of Jackson as they neared the lounge. Her jitters at the events of the day had morphed into an inexplicable need to see Mitch again, to listen to his steady drawl reassure her that it was all going to be okay. She rounded the corner to the lounge and breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar outline of him against the gray chair. Her feet carried her around him and to the empty seat next to his.

Mitch sat up straighter as Jamie sank into the chair, his eyes cataloging the tiny cuts on her face and the slight bruising that colored her cheek. Abraham had risen to meet Jackson and voiced the question that had stuck in Mitch's throat.

"Who did this to you?"

Mitch tore his eyes away from Jamie long enough to see that Jackson actually looked worse. A healing cut on his lip and the bruising around his eye spoke of a fight. Jackson glanced at Jamie for just a split second, but it was enough to set Mitch's hackles up. Something bad had happened.

"It's a long story," Jackson dismissed his friend's concern. "I'll tell you later."

"Chloe," Jamie spoke quietly, drawing the team's attention as she reached into her bag. She lifted a small canister into her hand, keeping it hidden within the fabric of the bag.

"What is it?" Chloe questioned.

"They call it the Mother Cell." The way Jamie said it made it sound important, but Mitch had no idea what she was talking about. Judging from Chloe and Abraham's expressions, he wasn't the only one.

"What the hell is a mother cell?" he asked.

"It's something Reiden used to genetically modify just about everything they make. It's what Evan Lee Hartley was after. We think this is the key to it all." Jamie's voice wasn't anything like the normal exuberance she usually displayed when speaking about Reiden, and there was a hesitancy when she spoke Hartley's name. But the magnitude of the bombshell she dropped on them warred for dominance in his brain.

"So this mother cell is a vector?" he guessed.

"Yeah," Jackson nodded. "Leo Butler said that it allows them to make things faster and cheaper than their competitors. Said they discovered it about a dozen years ago." He took a breath and lowered his voice. "He also said that they did some preliminary testing and -"

"Wait," Chloe held up her hand to stop him and glanced around furtively. "We should not discuss this here. Delavane has secured us rooms at the hotel just a few blocks from here," she said, reading the recent text from her phone.

"Then we should get some rest," Abe stood and grabbed his small duffel. The others followed, though only Mitch noticed the wince Jamie tried to hide as she got to her feet. He reached out and took her bag, shouldering it along with his own. She shot him a grateful smile and fell into step beside him as Chloe led the way out of the airport and hailed a cab.

Ten minutes later they were gathered in Jackson and Abe's room. The canister holding the Mother Cell sat in the center of the bed as Jackson explained everything Leo Butler had told them about it. Jamie kept quiet, only offering input when Jackson didn't seem to remember the specifics. He told them about finding Leo, about he and Jamie going after the Mother Cell. When he mentioned the crash and Hartley's involvement, everyone's eyes flew from Jackson to Jamie.

"I'm fine," she told them. "Banged up, but fine." She shrugged one shoulder, grimacing as her muscles protested the movement. Mitch studied her a bit longer as Jackson returned to the story, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. There was something else she wasn't saying, something more than a car crash that had stolen the spirit from her eyes.

"There's more," Jackson continued. "Ben Schaffer -"

That was as far as he got before Jamie shot out her chair and made her way to the door. She wrenched it open and dashed across the hall to the room she and Chloe were sharing. Jackson sighed and met his friends' curious stares.

"He's dead."

"Dead?" Abe questioned. "Were he and Jamie...close?" He asked the second with a nervous glance at Mitch. Jackson seemed to miss it, but Chloe didn't. The scientist gave nothing away, but inside his heart was hammering away. He'd sent her the text about not falling for Schaffer in jest; a note meant to lighten the mood and to subtly let her know that he was invested in whatever it was they had begun in Alabama. The thought that she might have grown closer to the FBI agent snarled something in him. He didn't want to peer too closely at the reasons, though he was beginning to suspect what he was feeling for the journalist went beyond casual interest and attraction.

"No," Jackson frowned and closed his eyes. When he opened them again there was a depth of sadness that hadn't been there before. "She killed him."

A chorus of incredulity met the confession, and Mitch actually came to his feet. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He tried to take the Mother Cell from her," Jackson explained. "He tied her up in her hotel room and stole it. I caught up with him in the stairwell. We fought and Jamie must have gotten herself free because I look up and she's there. Ben's the one who gave me this," Jackson indicated the purpling bruise on his cheek. "In the fight his gun fell on the stairs, and he and Jamie lunged for it at the same time. She got there first, but he didn't stop coming at her. It was self-defense."

Chloe breathed a curse in French under her breath, and Abe stared stoically at his oldest friend. Almost as one, the three of them turned to Mitch expectantly. He had planned on visiting her after their meeting broke up anyway; that they all clearly wanted him to do it now just got him out of there faster. He sighed and stood, stopping just as he reached the door to turn and as Chloe called his name softly. She padded over to him and slipped her keycard into his hand. Mitch stared at it for a moment, then nodded his thanks.

He came to a stop just outside Jamie's door. He leaned in to listen for any clue as to what he might find on the other side, but there was only silence. It took a few tries for the keycard to work, and finally it buzzed green and let him in. The room was dark, almost pitch black for the heavy curtains that hung on the window. The light from the hall disappeared as the door closed behind him, and he shuffled forward calling Jamie's name softly.

She didn't answer, but the sniffles coming from the direction of the closest bed told him where she was. He stepped out of his shoes and sat on the edge, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. She was curled in on herself, her back to the door and to him. Mitch was suddenly at a loss, unsure what to say that could possibly make her feel better. So he said nothing, choosing instead to let his actions speak. He laid down on the bed, stretching out on his side behind her to let her know that she wasn't alone. Her sniffles became strangled sobs, and when he settled a hand on her waist she rolled over and buried her head into his chest.

For the second time in as many weeks he held onto her as she wept. One arm was under her, holding her against him as the other ran over her head, down her back and up again. Still he said nothing, waiting out the storm until she finally ran out of tears. He kept holding her her breathing evened out, and he chanced a few lingering kisses into her hair.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked finally, unable to keep the question from spilling out in curiosity. She shook her head softly but didn't say anything. Her left arm snaked around his waist and pulled him closer, and he felt her shudder against him. "It was self-defense, Jamie."

"Doesn't change the fact that I killed him," she returned. "And it's not going to take them long to figure out it was me. Hotels have cameras everywhere." She'd pulled back a little and laid her head on the pillow, though her arm remained resting over his hip. She breathed a sigh that drifted across his skin. "Maybe I should just turn myself in."

He couldn't put a name to it, but something in him told him that was wrong. He frowned and tried to catch her eyes, but she was steadfastly staring at his shirt. "No," he shook his head. "Look, Schaffer was obviously on Reiden's payroll, right? So at the least, he was a crooked cop. I'm willing to bet he wasn't even a real agent." She didn't say anything, and he began to flounder for anything that would get her to talk to him. "Turning yourself in won't help us," he told her. "You can't get justice for your mother from inside of a jail."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"How dare you!" Jamie hissed, pushing away from him. "You don't think I feel guilty enough already? That ever since Senator Vaughn showed me the door I haven't felt like a colossal failure? I thought maybe this was something, that we were finally getting somewhere." He didn't know if she was talking about their mission or their blossoming relationship, but she didn't clarify. Her hair was curtained around her face as she stared at the floor, and he knew without hearing her that she was crying again.

Not knowing what else to do, he slid off the end of the bed and found his shoes. Maybe Chloe could talk to her. She didn't move as he shuffled toward the door, but something made him stop before grabbing the handle. The conversation he'd had with Chloe yesterday replayed in his head, sticking on one particular phrase above others.

 _Nothing weighs more than a secret._

He glanced back at her, finding her silhouette easily in the darkened room. She had hunched herself over her knees, burdened and broken, and Mitch couldn't leave.

His approach was slow and careful, like he used at the zoo when dealing with a wounded animal. She didn't flinch when he stopped next to her, nor when he crouched down in front of her. His hands sought hers, squeezing her fingers as he spoke.

"Tell me."

She shook her head, pulling one hand away to wipe her eyes. Deciding that she might feel more comfortable if he shared first, he rose to his feet and moved to sit next to her. He kept a hold of one hand, interlacing their fingers before setting them on top of his thigh.

"I have a daughter," he told her. "Clementine. She's ten. Her mom and I...well, we both thought it best if we didn't stay together just for her. Honestly," he told her with a wince, "I haven't really talked to her in two years. Not until today, anyway." Jamie didn't say anything, and Mitch suddenly felt the urge to fill the silence. "She got sick three years ago - Glazier's Syndrome. It's incurable. And terminal." At that he felt Jamie's hand tighten around his own. "I did everything I could - called in favors, traveled all over the country to find anyone who would help her. But Audra said it was too much, that I was being selfish. Nothing I was doing could help her, and all I was doing was making her life harder. So I stopped." He took a shuddering breath and Jamie shifted next to him. Her leg pressed against his as her thumb stroked the back of his hand.

"Where does she live?"

"Boston," he answered. "Her mom remarried when she was two. He's a...good guy. And he loves Clem." The conversation fell flat then, neither knowing what else to say. The silence stretched on for several long minutes, and Mitch had almost resolved to leave her alone and let her rest when she began speaking.

"I shot him," she admitted quietly. She wasn't looking at him now, but staring down at her free hand twiddling in her lap. "Jackson probably made it sound like there was this split second where it was either him or me, but it wasn't like that." She breathed a sound that reminded Mitch of one of his own derisive scoffs. He didn't like it on her. "I had the higher ground. I could have shot him in the leg, but I didn't. And then -" her breath hitched once, then twice as she fought to regain control of her emotions. He held on to her hand like a vice, anchoring her through whatever turbulent storm was raging in her. She looked anywhere but him, lifting her head to cast her eyes at the curtained window. "I kept shooting. He was down, and I just kept pulling the trigger. I was so _angry_ at him. He'd used us - used me - to get the Mother Cell for Reiden. From that first moment at the prison he was playing us and I hated him." Then, in the smallest of whispers, she finished her thought. "I wanted him dead."

Mitch wanted to crack wise - let her know that he hadn't been terribly fond of the guy either - but it wasn't the time. Instead he offered her his steadfast support. "We're going to figure this out, Jamie. You, me, the others...it's coming together now. We have the Mother Cell. That's a big step toward figuring out what's going on." He stood up and pulled her with him, releasing her hand in favor of wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "As for the rest of it, you can always come talk to me if you need to."

Her shoulders shook with silent amusement as she turned her head to lay her cheek against his chest. "You know, for someone who reportedly doesn't like people, you have a knack for knowing exactly what to say to make me feel better."

"I told you," he matched her light tone, "you're the exception." She laughed with him, just a soft sound that didn't quite convince. But it was a start. He held her for a moment longer then relaxed his hold. She stepped back and wiped her eyes again. "You should get some rest," he told her. "We'll work it out tomorrow." He took a step back, clearly intending to leave her alone to sort through her thoughts, but her hand shot out and gripped his arm.

"Stay," she whispered. Her face was uncertain but her hold on his arm was firm. She was at war with herself and he found he didn't really want to leave her alone after all. Slowly he stepped around her, peeling back the covers on the bed so she could crawl in. Her shoes had been lost long ago, kicked off and forgotten in the corner. The slacks and blouse she wore weren't as comfortable as pajamas, but they would suffice for the time being. Once she was buried under blankets, Mitch moved quickly to swing the latch on the door. He set the alarm on his phone for six and shot a quick text to Chloe that they would meet the rest downstairs for dinner. Her reply was simple, and Mitch silently thanked her for not prying further.

Jamie was already dozing when he returned, and he quickly toed his shoes off and laid on top of the covers. His body fit snugly around hers as he spooned up behind her, tucking her against him with one arm as the other propped his head up. Unable to resist, he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her cheek, smiling at the contented hum she emitted at his touch.

Jet lag and emotional exhaustion finally caught up to him, and he laid his head against the pillow to nap with her. A million thoughts raged in him, but as Jamie's body relaxed against his they quieted to nothing. Everything else could wait.


	7. Sleuths - Confessions

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 7: Sleuths - Confessions

 _Secrets are revealed as the team tries to uncover a mystery involving bears in Paris._

* * *

Jamie fidgeted in her seat, wedged between Mitch and the inner wall of the airplane. Beyond the window was darkness, but she could almost feel the vast expanse of water stretched out beneath them as they traversed the Atlantic toward Europe. Next to her, Mitch was snoozing comfortably, his head laid back and his mouth slightly open as he breathed deeply. She thought about waking him to talk about the million things that were flying through her mind, to let him help her sort it all out. Her new passport sat heavily in her coat pocket, inscribed with a new-but-old moniker.

Using her mother's maiden name probably hadn't been the ideal choice for her new identity, but when the man had asked her it had been the first name to pop into her head. With a few strokes on a keyboard Jamie Campbell was no more; all of her achievements and accolades meant nothing. All of the work she'd done, the hardships she'd endured in the name of exposing Reiden had simply vanished like a breath in the wind. She knew that it would be safer to have a completely new name, one not connected in any way to Jamie Campbell and Folsom, Louisiana. But she couldn't. Giving it up entirely felt too much like surrender, and though she might have been ready to throw it in a few weeks ago, things had changed so drastically since then. They had the Mother Cell now, and more than just a few animal attacks that offered ample enough proof to nail Reiden to the wall. And when they were finally brought down and made to pay for all of the suffering they caused, it would be all the sweeter to do so as Nancy Armstrong.

Mitch sucked in a sharp breath and shifted next to her. He didn't wake, but he hummed something unintelligible and Jamie stifled a giggle. Before she talked herself out of it she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of him. At the very least, it was good blackmail material later (and if she happened to use it as her contact photo for him, well he would never know).

Jamie checked her watch and groaned as she realized they were only about halfway through the flight. They were scheduled to land in Paris at one p.m. local time and Chloe had already told them they were welcome to stay at her place. She had room, she'd told them, and it would be nice to stay in her own bed for at least one night. No one had argued; everyone had gotten their fill of hotels for awhile. Jamie glanced across the aisle where Chloe was sleeping across both seats, having been lucky enough not to have a seatmate. Jackson and Abe were in the row ahead of her, both men relaxed in sleep and unavailable for Jamie's entertainment. Resigning herself to her solitude, she pulled a book from her bag and angled the overhead light so it wouldn't hit her companion as she began to read.

Mitch offered to carry her bag for her as they deplaned. When he'd woken up she'd joked that he hadn't been nice enough to share his melatonin. He'd obviously taken it more seriously, and the contrite expression his face almost made her laugh. Still, she took him up on his offer and let him fight with both her bag and his down the narrow aisle between seats as she followed him off the plane. When they hit the jetway she tried to take it from him but he insisted on being a proper gentleman and shouldered his duffel and gripped the handle of her rolling case firmly.

A dark SUV was waiting for them out front, and Chloe took the front seat to speak with the driver in their native tongue. Jamie slipped into the back as Jackson and Mitch stowed all of the bags in the back. Abe took the bucket seat just in front of her, and when the others finally sat down it was Jackson who climbed into the back next to her. The driver pulled away from the airport in a rush, and Chloe directed him to an address as the others craned their necks to get their first glimpse of the city. Like them, Jamie had never been to Paris before, but any excitement she might have felt at being in the City of Light was smothered by the weight of their task and the shadow of the life she'd taken. Her mind wandered aimlessly even as Jackson poked her as they passed various buildings and sights. When the Eiffel Tower finally came into view she barely glanced at it, her thoughts too filled with the sound of gunshots echoing in an empty stairwell and the look of pained surprise on Ben's face.

"Jackson and I will go talk to the authorities and see what we can do about getting in on the investigation," Chloe said from the front. She turned to address Mitch. "They're keeping the bear sedated at a university lab at Alfort. I've already told them you're coming, so we'll drop you on the way. Jamie and Abe can stay with you to help."

Jamie didn't feel much like helping, but she didn't say so. It was only another ten minutes or so before they were deposited at the doors of a nondescript looking building. Chloe went with them until they found the doctor, who thankfully spoke English. She seemed a little out of her depth and was visibly relieved when Chloe told her that Dr. Morgan would be taking over for a while.

They were led down a long corridor until they reached a back room. The bear was laid out on a table, various tubes and wires monitoring each breath and heartbeat. He was massive; much larger than she'd originally pictured. Jamie stopped at the door, her own fight or flight response kicking in at the sight of a large predator.

"It's perfectly safe," Mitch told her. "He's sleeping." Jamie edged in, skirting the outside of the room until she was safely behind the desk. Mitch checked the bear's vitals as Abe did a visual inspection.

"He seems to be unharmed," the larger man said. "And I see no physical differences between him and any other bear. How do we tell if he's been infected by the Mother Cell?"

Mitch turned to Jamie and gestured to a table near her. "Grab that tray of test tubes over there, will you?" He grabbed a kit from the cabinet and pulled out a syringe. "I'm gonna take a blood panel and hope that some foreign elements show up." He found a vein and stuck the needle in as Jamie gripped her row of test tubes anxiously. When the bear didn't stir she let out a breath of relief. "If they do," Mitch went on oblivious to her reaction, "I'll compare their chemical structure with the Mother Cell. And if they match, we've got our answer."

Long forgotten chemistry classes sprang into Jamie's mind and she grasped at them in a desperate attempt to distract herself. "So basically you're looking for a fingerprint, chemically speaking."

Mitch looked up as he extracted the needle and gave her a teasing smile. "Look at you, getting all science-y." She returned his smile with a mocking glare, accepting the syringe from him as he held it out. "Ten drops each, in each of those test tubes. And as a back-up we'll take a DNA sample…"

Jamie zoned out Mitch's conversation with Abe as she concentrated on the task he'd given her. She had never been good at science, often relying on lab partners for most of her work. She'd helped them on their English papers in turn; not the most academically ethical arrangement but a useful one. Now she wished she'd paid just a little more attention.

"Huh," Mitch breathed, and when Jamie looked up from her test tubes he was crouched a little too the bear's head for her liking.

"Huh, what?" she asked.

"His eye is normal," Mitch glanced over. "Come take a look." Jamie finished the last drop on the test tube she was working on and set the syringe down carefully before joining him. She leaned over his shoulder, still just a little nervous about being that close to the bear's mouth. Mitch used his thumb and forefinger to open the bear's eye, showing her what he'd discovered. "No defiant pupil."

"That doesn't make any sense." Jamie frowned and stood up. "If he was exposed to the Mother Cell, his eye should be -"

"All big and scary," Mitch finished for her. "Yeah. It should be."

He began muttering to himself, going over hypotheses and theories as Jamie returned to her task. When she was finished with the test tubes, Mitch walked her through the operation of the centrifuge. At her hesitation he gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"I'll be right here," he told her. "Ask as many questions as you want. You can do it." He left her to it and grabbed Abe for a complete snout to tail physical exam of the bear. It took her almost half an hour to complete the preparations, and by the time she was done so was Mitch. He surveyed her work and snapped his gloves off with a flourish.

"We'll make a passable vet tech of you yet, Miss Campbell. Good work." He flagged down the doctor that had greeted them earlier and sent her off with the blood labs and the DNA sample. While he was gone, Chloe called Jamie and told them about their meeting with the city board members.

"So they're just going to search the catacombs and hope the other two bears are there?" Jamie repeated skeptically. "How long will that take?"

"Hopefully not long," Chloe answered. "They're going to coordinate everything and start the search tomorrow. We will be joining them when they get a lead." Jamie heard Jackson's voice faintly through the connection but she couldn't make out what he was saying. "Yes," Chloe agreed with whatever he'd said. "Jackson and I will come get the three of you. There's little more we can do today."

"Okay," Jamie agreed. She was more than ready to just be somewhere she could sit down and process everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. "I'll let the others know."

Mitch lamented not being able to stay and examine the bear more, but Abe pointed out that they'd probably done all they could for now. Jamie only half-listened to their lighthearted banter as she sank down in the desk chair. Her eyes fell on the beast lying peacefully on the exam table, tracking the slow rise and fall of its side as it breathed. Unconsciously, she matched her own breathing to the bear's and the languid cadence soon lulled her into a light doze. A hand on her shoulder jostled her awake, and she blinked blearily as Mitch's worried eyes found hers.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," she sat up and wiped a hand down her face to make sure she hadn't been drooling. At Mitch's soft laugh, she glared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head and held out a hand to help her stand. "Chloe and Jackson are here. You ready to go?"

She slipped her hand in his and didn't let go as they walked toward the lab door. Abe had already left, and before she let Mitch lead her out she paused by the bear. With one shaky hand, she reached out and pushed her fingers through the thick fur. The skin beneath was warm, and she let out a quick breath as she felt the beast's heart thump beneath her palm.

"We're gonna have to start keeping a list of dangerous predators you've stopped to pet," Mitch joked. Jamie laughed with him, remembering the lion cub that had been her first real up close experience with any sort of exotic creature. "Come on," he tugged on her hand and pulled her through the door and out into the Parisian afternoon. She climbed into the back of the SUV with Jackson as Chloe gave the driver directions to her apartment building.

They stopped at a store on a corner so they could buy ingredients for dinner. Chloe and Abe disappeared inside, emerging about ten minutes later with bags of food. Jamie kept her gaze out the window the entire time, only half-listening as Mitch and Jackson discussed innocuous things like the animals Jackson had worked with and various behavioral traits that both men found interesting.

Once Chloe and Abe were back, they continued through the heart of Paris toward Chloe's home. They pulled up outside a building nestled snugly in the 6th _arrondissement_ near the left bank of the Seine River. Chloe thanked the driver and stepped out with a soft smile on her face. For a split second Jamie envied her. She was home. Jamie no longer had one.

" _Bienvenue chez moi,_ " Chloe gestured to the old edifice that had been converted into upscale apartments. Jackson and Abe scrambled out of the SUV to appreciate the old architecture of the building as Mitch moved to the rear to begin unloading their bags. Jamie joined him, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at the others' antics when he glanced up. He chuckled and slammed the hatch closed, jostling the others from their fascinated stares.

Chloe apartment was larger than the house Jamie had grown up in, but she wouldn't say so. Judging from Mitch's shocked expression, she wasn't alone. And for two men who'd been living in a safari camp in Africa for the last several years, Jamie guessed Jackson and Abe were in heaven. Abe gave a low, appreciative whistle as Chloe took them on a quick tour. The walls were done in a warm wood paneling, and the open layout of the kitchen and dining room made the space seem even larger.

"I have two guest rooms and a sofa. There is also a _chaise longue_ in the sitting room that's comfortable enough if you don't mind firm cushions." She stopped in the middle of the room and spun around. "Make yourselves at home. I'm going to grab some linens for you." She disappeared down a side hall, leaving the others in a mildly uncomfortable silence.

Predictably, it was Mitch who broke it.

"Okay, two questions. One, how much does the French secret service pay? And two, how the hell do I get hired?"

"I think speaking French might be a first step," Abe joked with him, shifting his hold on the bags of food he carried.

"The only French I know would get me slapped," Mitch returned cheekily.

Abe chuckled and turned to Jamie. "You can have one of the guest rooms," he told her warmly. "And unless Chloe has an extra large sofa, I will have to take the other." He glanced at the other two men apologetically, but Jackson just shrugged.

"Hey, I've slept in a hammock for the last few years. I'm not picky." He shared a knowing smile with Abe, then reached for the food. "Why don't you and Jamie get settled in the rooms. Mitch and I can put this stuff away." He transferred one bag to Mitch's hands, not bothering to acknowledge the look of surprised protest on the man's face as he took the other. Jamie stifled a smile, but Mitch caught it and glared at her. That made her smile more and Abe laughed at both of them as Jackson pushed Mitch toward the kitchen.

Abe and Jamie made their way down the hall toward what they presumed was the guest rooms. They could hear Chloe shuffling around down the hall, presumably tracking down sheets and pillows for Jackson and Mitch. Jamie stopped outside the first open door, peering into the small room. There was a smaller-than-average double bed pushed against the far wall in front of the curtained window. On the near wall was a standing closet, and a small chest of drawers next to the bed.

"Cozy," Abe commented. But Jamie couldn't hear him. Her thoughts had begun to spiral, and she felt herself struggling to breathe deeply. Was this her life now? Moving from place to place? Never having a home to call hers? She couldn't live like this, never knowing if she was one step away from going to prison for murder. It was too much. She pushed past Abe and bolted back into the main area. Her eyes found an outside door, and just beyond it she could see the railings of balcony. She yanked it open and pulled it closed behind her, gulping in huge breaths of the cool night air as she fought to calm her racing heart.

She half-expected Abe to follow her, to placate her with meaningless words and false promises, but no one came. She didn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed. She turned her eyes to the Parisian nightlife, listening to the sound of the bustling city. It was comforting in a way, reminding her of her L.A. home. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was back in her apartment sitting in front of the open window, her only worries a looming deadline for the paper and what to wear for the date Ethan had planned. She had almost convinced herself that she was there, that none of the past few weeks had been real and that when she opened her eyes she would be back on her worn sofa listening to the soft strains of whatever her downstairs neighbors had on blast.

"Jamie, _vino_?" Abe's quiet voice pierced the veil of her almost-fantasy and she startled. He didn't seem to notice as he handed her a glass filled a little less than halfway with a dark red liquid.

"Thanks," she took it from him and sipped politely, trying not to cry as she realized her fantasy would never again be a reality. She was homeless. Jobless. Nameless.

No, that wasn't entirely true.

"But it's 'Nancy,'" she told him. "I should get used to saying it." Then, because she sensed he wanted to know but was too polite to ask, she added, "As far as names go, it's not so bad. It was my mother's," she said. "Armstrong was her maiden name." She avoided his eyes then, expecting a lecture on choosing such a risky name. It wouldn't be hard to connect Nancy Armstrong to Jamie Campbell;, not for the FBI.

But when he spoke, it wasn't to berate her or lecture. Instead, he told a story about a man with another name, another life. Jamie felt tears stinging her eyes as he spoke of a boy who'd had to become a man far too early, and the weight of the guilt he bore every day. She tried to picture a young Abraham - then just a teen named Abdullah - as he made a choice that Jamie wasn't sure she would have been strong enough to make. She heard the heartbreak in his voice as he spoke of his brothers' deaths, killed because he wouldn't allow even one of them to live as a child soldier.

"And even though I knew I did the right thing for my brothers, I've been spending my whole life trying to make up for my choice by protecting the people I care about. My new family." He opened his arms and stepped toward her, drawing her against his broad frame. "And now you are a part of that family, too, Miss Nancy Armstrong."

For a moment she didn't react, caught off-guard by the strength of his embrace. Then she relaxed, letting her arms snake around his middle as far as they would reach as she turned her cheek against his chest. "I'm just tired of running," she admitted. "I haven't even been doing it for two full days, and I'm already exhausted."

"Then let us find a way for you to stop running," Abe answered easily.

A sharp knock pulled their attention to the door. Mitch stood on the other side with a sheepish smile and his own glass of wine. Abe released Jamie and moved to open the door.

"I'm not interrupting?" Mitch asked, earning a soft chuckle from the larger man.

"We were just talking about how we can clear Jamie's name." Mitch stepped out onto the balcony with a firm nod. Abe looked between him and Jamie, then saluted her with his wine glass. "Perhaps sleeping in a comfortable bed for a change will help me think of a solution. Good night."

"Good night, Abe," Jamie smiled her thanks, unable to come up with anything else to say to the man. She thought about the story he'd told her, about the impossible choice he hadn't been able to make. The journalist in her noted that it would make a good story. Maybe one day she'd ask him if she could write it.

"You alright?" Mitch's voice was warm and rich from wine, and Jamie's grateful smile for Abe morphed into something a little different for this man.

"I am," she told him honestly. She turned and leaned sideways against the rail, her stance open and inviting. Mitch took the cue and stepped up next to her, reaching out his free hand to take hers. She sipped her wine for lack of something to say, turning her eyes to the city. He mirrored her, taking a long pull from his own glass. She expected him to say something corny about being in the City of Love or maybe even something about the wine. But he didn't. When the silence stretched longer than she thought it would she turned her head to study him. His jaw was clenched and his brow was creased in thought. Anyone else might think he was deep in thought, working through the global puzzle that had been handed them.

But Jamie wasn't anyone else. With a start, she realized she was probably the person who understood Mitch the best.

"Something's eating at you," she began gently. His frown deepened but he didn't say anything. Jamie pressed. "Is your daughter…?"

"No," he jerked his head once sharply to the side, "she's...she's fine." He took a deep breath and pulled his hand from hers. "Jamie, I…" She saw his throat lift and drop with a swallow and a dozen things flitted through her mind at once. She shoved the most juvenile of them away and tried to let him know that he could talk about whatever was on his mind. She squeezed his fingers between hers and his eyes dropped to their joined hands briefly before returning to the horizon.

"Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as -"

"I contacted Reiden. I told them we have the Mother Cell." He blurted it out so fast she almost didn't catch it. Almost. Her stomach wrenched painfully as she gasped and released his hand.

"W-what? Why would you…? When?" Her mind couldn't seem to focus on one thing and as he turned toward her she stuttered backwards one step, then another. Her back hit the rail and she felt a coldness seep through her skin that had nothing to do with the cool metal behind her.

"Jamie, let me explain."

" _Explain_?" she cried. "Yes, please explain to me why you would call the very corporation that's been trying to stop us. That sent Ben to spy on us! Explain why you would betray -" Her throat closed around the word she wanted to use - _me_ , she thought - and replaced it with another, " - us?"

He moved to close the distance between them, then thought better of it. He ran his now-free hand through his already disheveled hair before taking a breath. "There's a cure for my daughter's disease," he started. "Reiden's been running trials and they've all been successful. Everyone they've treated has been completely cured, but it'll take years to get the drug through the FDA and approved. By then, Clem might be -" He didn't say it, but he didn't have to. It hung in the air between them, heavy and oppressive. Dead. His daughter would likely be dead by the time any sort of treatment hit the market. Jamie watched him jerk, as though the word itself had struck a physical blow. "She doesn't have that much time," he amended. His eyes met hers and she could see how much his next words pained him. "They will give me enough medicine to cure her if I give them the Mother Cell."

" _Bastard_ ," Jamie hissed, whirling away from him in anger. At least, that's what she told herself - that she was too angry to even look at him - when the truth was so much worse. She closed her eyes against the sting of tears and tried to ignore the way her heart pounded in her chest. Anger would be preferable to the agony she was experiencing now. She couldn't let him see how badly his betrayal had hit her. He couldn't know how close she had been to falling in love with him.

"Jamie, I'm not -" she heard his shoes scuff the concrete floor of the balcony as he shifted closer. "I haven't done anything; it's been one phone call. And this could work for you as well," he went on hurriedly. "They would clear your name in a heartbeat if we agreed to -"

"To what?" she turned back hotly, all thoughts of hiding her feelings a distant memory. "To give up our only chance at finally making them pay for what they've done? Forget my mother, look at what they've done to the animals. To the whole world!"

"We don't have to give them all of it," Mitch argued. "Leo Butler hid that thing away for years. They have no idea how much we have. We could cut it in half, keep enough for any tests or evidence and give them what they want to save my daughter. And you."

His logic was enough to cool her righteous anger, though barely. Jamie took several long breaths through her nose as she thought about his plan. She had to admit it had merit, and it was a bit simpler than the James Bond-esque infiltration she'd started to formulate in her head. Still, her anger and hurt kept her from agreeing.

"Look, Jamie," he took a small step closer, "I -"

"Don't," she cut off his apology with a shake of her head and an upheld hand. "Save it. I can't...I can't do this right now." She pushed past him and escaped into the house, rushing through the dining room and ignoring Abe's concerned glances. She found the room that she'd claimed and closed the door before throwing herself on the bed. Her own thoughts were a battleground as she warred between the heartbreak of his betrayal and the logic that the life of his daughter was worth more to him than anything. She vacillated between _how could he_? and _you would have done the same for Mom_ so often that her head began to ache. Quiet tears ran down her cheeks as she curled around a pillow, but she refused to wipe them away.

The minutes stretched on, and Jamie heard the muted sound of the men talking as they waited for Chloe to come home. Even through the walls Jamie could pick out Mitch's voice as he explained what had happened and told them about his plan. Then there was nothing, and Jamie strained for any clue as to what was happening beyond her room. She jumped slightly when a knock came at her door and Abe's soft voice floated through.

"Jamie, are you alright? Are you awake?" He was quiet enough that, had she been asleep, it was likely she wouldn't have heard him.

"Yeah," she croaked, wincing at the obvious evidence that she wasn't alright. The door opened then closed again, and in the dark Jamie felt Abe's presence as he stopped a few feet from the bed.

"Mitch told us everything," he said quietly, "and while I don't agree with him keeping secrets from us, his plan is a good one." Jamie had nothing to say to that, so she kept quiet. Abe sighed. "Jamie, he did not have to tell you. He could have taken the Mother Cell, gotten the medicine for his daughter, and disappeared. But he told you because he cares about you."

Jamie couldn't help the soft snort of derision that escaped through her nose. She turned over and stared at where she assumed Abe's face was. It was hard to tell in the dark. "If you care about someone you don't go plotting to betray them."

"He saw an opportunity to save someone he loves," Abe corrected gently as Jamie pushed herself into a sitting position and switched on the bedside lamp. They both blinked against the light as Abe continued. "And beneath that gruff exterior he likes to put up, Mitch is not a man who can idly sit by and let someone he loves suffer. Not when he can do something." After a beat, he added, "The two of you are alike in many ways."

"I would _never_ do what he did," Jamie stood and stalked toward the dresser where she'd stowed her laptop bag.

"Perhaps not," Abe conceded, "or perhaps you simply lack the right motivation. I do not have any of my own, but I imagine there is little a parent would not do to save their child. You are a journalist, Jamie," Abe went on firmly, "a storyteller. Put yourself in his shoes. What would you have done?" Jamie unzipped her bag forcefully and tried to hold onto the righteous anger that had consumed her on the balcony. It was cooling faster than she liked in the face of Abe's steady rationalizations. Rather stubbornly, she refused to let it go completely.

"He lied to me, Abe. How am I supposed to trust him?" There it was, the crux of the problem she had refused to admit out loud. How could she trust him now? And if she couldn't trust him, then anything more…

She shook her head and grabbed her laptop, eager to occupy her brain with anything except Mitch Morgan. Abe sighed heavily as she sat down on the bed, effectively ending the conversation.  
"What are you doing?"

"Looking for a way into Reiden's system," she admitted. "If we can access their corporate database, we can track down any payments they made to Ben Schaffer."

"If Mitch's plan works -"

"Look, I know you're trying to be helpful and all, but I really don't want to think about that right now. I'm sorry," she added with a pleading look.

"Alright," Abe relented and joined her on the bed. "It'll go faster if we both work on it."

By the time Chloe returned, Mitch and Jackson had finished dinner and Jamie and Abe had pieced together a halfway decent plan on obtaining the Reiden documents. They ate as they explained everything to Chloe, including Mitch's conversation with the Reiden executive. She was as upset with his deception as the rest of them had been, but she accepted his reasoning more easily than Jamie had. Of course, Jamie told herself snidely, Chloe wasn't already halfway in love with the guy.

Throughout dinner Mitch kept trying to catch her eye, but Jamie resolutely ignored him in favor of joining Abe in laying out their plan to infiltrate Reiden and get the documents they needed. Chloe agreed that it would be nice to have access to all of the information and maybe even get a step ahead for once. Mitch seemed to agree just to get back into Jamie's good graces. It didn't work.

"This is going to be a team effort," Abe said as they finished eating. "Even Mitch." Jamie finally glanced at him, catching the good-natured sneer he threw at Abe's back. She could practically hear the sarcastic response he no doubt had ready, but he faltered as his eyes caught hers. He turned back to the sink where he'd been banished to dish duty by the others as a way of punishment for his transgressions. Jamie marveled again at the others' ability to forgive him so easily.

With clean-up covered and their plan set, Jamie retired to her room with her laptop. She mentally walked herself through her part of the scheme half a dozen times before she felt confident enough. Over the faint strains of her music she heard the footsteps of the others as they bedded down for the night. Once she thought she heard someone stop outside her door, but no one knocked and she shut down her computer and turned out the lights.

Jamie lay awake listening to the sounds of the house at night. There was a susurrus from outside that was present in every city, but Chloe's house held a concert all its own. She could hear the soft snores of Abe in the next room, and someone was shuffling near the bathroom in the hall. Her bed creaked slightly as she shifted, and the ceiling fan wobbled now and then before smoothing out. All of the sounds combined to lull her into a restful sleep, and she was lucky enough not to dream. She woke to the soft murmur of voices that meant her friends were already up, and dressed quickly in the clothes Chloe had let her borrow.

Just a little under two hours later, Jamie was sitting at a small table in the lobby of Reiden's Paris office. She'd placed an order at the small coffee shop in the back, remembering at the last minute to use her mother's name rather than her own. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jackson, Abe, and Chloe hovering just inside the main entrance.

"You alright?" Mitch's voice in her ear startled her, but she managed to stifle it.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Don't whisper," Mitch warned, "people will think you're up to something."

"I am up to something," she replied dryly, earning her a soft chuckle from the man on the other end. They'd reached a sort of detente that morning over breakfast, but despite his attempt to charm her she remained resolutely sullen. He seemed to accept her quiet anger and stopped trying to make small talk. When he'd left for the lab he'd wished them all luck, but his eyes had never left her.

She heard the barista call her mother's name - _no_ , she corrected. _My name_. She retrieved her coffee and moved back to her computer. "Are you ready to start the connection?"

"Yep," Mitch answered. "Give me the IP whatever."

"You know," she commented, "for a man who can work any number of advanced scientific machines, you are surprisingly computer inept."

"I can work computers just fine," he shot back. "It's all of this hacking and cyber subterfuge that eludes me."

She bit down on an amused chuckle and gave him the address, connecting her laptop with the computer at the lab. Her heart was pounding as she disconnected her call with Mitch to call Chloe. With their plan underway, Jamie forced herself to focus on her part and push aside any thoughts about Mitch or her now extremely confusing feelings for him.

Less than ten minutes later they were slipping into their rented SUV with matching grins. Jackson pulled them away from the building as Jamie turned around in her seat to make sure they weren't being followed. By the time they cleared the central business district her adrenaline was wearing off and she began to sag in her seat.

They all jumped as her cell rang shrilly in the silence of the car, and she fumbled for it with shaky hands. It was Mitch.

"Hello?"

"The bear's awake," he said in lieu of a proper greeting.

"What?" Jamie's tone alerted the other three and Chloe turned in the passenger seat curiously. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Mitch told her. "He started to stir, and when I tried to give him a sedative I bent the needle. He's developed some sort of armor plating."

"Are you okay?" By now Jamie could practically feel the others staring at her intently, but all she could think about was Mitch being face to face with an angry bear.

"He took a swipe at me before barreling out the door, but I'm alright. I did manage to find a soft enough spot to implant a tracker," he sounded just a bit smug as he told her the news. "He'll probably go back to his den." He hissed in pain and mumbled something she couldn't quite make out. _He took a swipe at me_. The words replayed in her head, and she imagined him sitting on the floor of the lab bleeding from a severe head wound, or holding a blood-soaked bandage against his side.

Jamie angled the phone down and directed her next words to Jackson. "Take me to the lab." She ignored Mitch's protest and relayed the rest of the information as quickly as possible. Jackson detoured toward the university as he began trying to shoot questions at Mitch through Jamie's phone. After the third exchange she hung up bitterly, her worry for Mitch manifesting as irritation at Jackson's incessant inquisition. By the time they pulled up outside the university's lab building, Chloe had called Mitch back and had gotten the entire story over speakerphone.

Jamie jumped out and waved a hasty goodbye as Jackson sped away in pursuit of the bear. She raced through the halls of the university, images of Mitch hurt and bleeding spurring her on. The anger and hurt from the day before evaporated as she barreled through the door to the lab and let out a quiet sigh of relief. There was a visible gash on the left side of his forehead, but it had already been doctored and he didn't even seem fazed by it.

"Sadly, no," Mitch was saying as the door closed behind her. He cocked his head slightly, no doubt puzzled at the frantic expression on her face. "What are you doing here? I told you I was fine." His tone was probably meant to be cool and aloof, but Jamie recognized the doubt swirling deep behind his eyes. She supposed it was fair; when they'd parted that morning Jamie had barely said two words to him.

She tried to match his detached tone, but she didn't quite manage to disguise the worry that was slowly dissipating at seeing him whole and healthy. "Well, I came to make sure you were as fine as you said you were." She closed the distance between them hesitantly, unsure how he would react to her sudden change in mood.

"Well, you missed quite a party," he admitted. The apprehension she'd seen in his gaze just a few seconds ago was gone. Jamie looked around, finally seeing the wreckage of the room. The bear had obviously not woken up in a good mood. It was a miracle Mitch hadn't been more seriously injured, and he'd managed to tag the bear with a tracker to boot.

"I can see that." When she was finally next to him she didn't resist the urge to reach out and caress the red skin above the cut. "That's a nice little scratch." His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she smiled a little as he turned into her touch.

"I know, it's hot, right?" And just like that, they were back. She let her fingers fall away from his face but she couldn't quite let him go. Her hand settled on his shoulder, returning his teasing smile with one of her own as Jackson's voice floated through the phone on the desk. Jamie flushed with embarrassment as she realized the others had heard the entire exchange.

"Okay," he said, all business. "We're at the forest, Mitch. Northwest corner. Where's the bear?"

"In the woods," Mitch answered, leaning in toward the screen to make sure he was reading the location right. "Due west of you. Looks like about 500 yards in."

Jamie jumped as the faint sound of gunshots echoed over the line. The call was disconnected abruptly, and Mitch tried calling them back three times before giving up.

"I'm sure they're fine," he told her, swiveling in the chair to face her. "Jamie, look -"

"I'm sorry," she blurted out before he could stumble over an apology he didn't really owe her. "I just…" She stepped back to put some space between them in an effort to think. When his expression fell she realized he'd misinterpreted the move and rushed on quickly to fix it. "I'm not always the most rational person when it comes to Reiden and what they've done. It took a lot of guts to…" She was going to say confess, but that sounded a little too accusatory in her head. "...tell me what you did." That sounded less hostile, but she still winced anyway. "And if you think your plan of cutting the Mother Cell in half will work, then we should try it. For your daughter."

His face transformed instantly, and Jamie marveled once again at the depth of emotion this man could elicit in her. His eyes, which had shifted away from her face when she'd began her small speech, snapped back to her. To Jamie's surprise, they were bright with just the hint of unshed tears. The muscles around his face and neck relaxed, making him look so much younger. He opened his arms a fraction, reaching only a bit to let her know what he wanted. Jamie didn't hesitate.

He was warm and solid against her, and his breath in her ear as he thanked her made her grip him tighter. She was standing between his knees with her arms over his shoulders, and he shifted slightly to snake his arms completely around her waist. He laid his forehead on her shoulder, clinging tightly as Jamie felt the ripples of tension leaving his body.

"Thank you," he repeated quietly, and this time she heard the tears he was fighting. Jamie might never understand the limitless love a parent has for their child, but she understood Mitch.

She loved him.

The realization didn't startle her as much as she thought it would; she'd already half-admitted to herself the night before. She knew now wasn't the time for that particular revelation, but that was alright. Instead, she let her actions speak for her as she rubbed his back and held on to him as he collected himself. When he pulled away his eyes were dry and bright.

"So," she smoothed her hands over his shoulders and let them fall away, but she made no move to step away from him. "How is this going to work? You said you'd already contacted someone?"

"Yeah," he turned the chair slightly toward the computer but kept one arm around her waist in an effort to keep her close. He switched over to the webpage that he'd pulled up earlier and tapped on a face. The name underneath read Clayton Burke, and he looked every inch the rich executive in his expensive suit and fake smile. "This guy is a high level Reiden exec. I'm supposed to get in contact with him and tell him when and where to meet to discuss terms."

"He's in the states?" Jamie asked. At Mitch's nod she sighed. "Then it needs to be soon. Chances are we'll be sent somewhere else as soon as this thing with the bears is over. Tomorrow morning?"

Mitch did some quick mental calculations, then nodded in agreement. "Yeah, okay." He excused himself to make the call, leaving Jamie standing next to the desk. When he returned, she moved on to the next part of the plan.

"Okay, so we need to cut the Mother Cell?"

"Yeah," Mitch reached around her and picked up his messenger bag. Jamie watched as he pulled the canister from its depths and gestured for her to precede him to the exam table. "Here," he grabbed a mask and gloves for her before donning his own. "I'm not entirely sure what this thing is made of, and I don't want to risk contaminating it. Or us," he added as an afterthought. She slipped the gloves on and secure the mask over her face as Mitch unscrewed the end cap and extracted the amber-like mineral within. Mitch searched the cabinets for something to cut it with, returning triumphantly with a small bone saw.

"Won't they notice a clean cut?" Jamie asked.

"You're right," Mitch's excitement deflated and he set the saw down. "Maybe a chisel? We can crack it right in the middle." A hammer and chisel were harder to track down, but eventually they found a rubber mallet and a flathead screwdriver that would do the trick. "Alright, stand back." He set the screwdriver in the center of the crystal, tapping it lightly with the mallet as a test. The flathead made a divot, but neither of them saw any discernible cracks.

"A little harder?" Jamie suggested unhelpfully. He glared at her and tried again, this time hitting the handle of the screwdriver with some force. The Mother Cell cracked and split into three pieces, one of them roughly half the original size. Mitch winced but shrugged as he stowed the tools away.

"I can work with two smaller pieces," he told her. "We just need something to keep them in." Jamie looked around and found a small glass container with a screw-on lid. "Perfect," Mitch showed her where the sanitizing supplies were as he put the half piece back into the original container. "We need to make sure the inside is completely sterile so we don't compromise any tests." Jamie rinsed the dish with an alcohol solution and wiped it down thoroughly. When Mitch was satisfied with its cleanliness, Jamie put the two smaller pieces in and screwed the lid on.

"Here," she held it out for him to stow in his bag with the canister, but Mitch shook his head.

"You hang on to it," he told her. "If something happens, I want to make sure you still have something to work with."

She frowned but kept the container in her hands. "Nothing's going to happen, Mitch. Everything is going to be fine."

"Provided the others don't get eaten by bears," Mitch added helpfully.

"We should probably check in, shouldn't we?" Jamie pulled out her cell and dialed Chloe's number. She picked up on the third ring, and Jamie switched on speakerphone as the DGSE agent retold the story of tracking the bears through the catacombs beneath Paris.

"Hey, you should all come back to the lab," Mitch said when she was done. "I've got something to show everyone."

"We're on our way," Chloe confirmed, disconnecting without a goodbye.

"What is it," Jamie stowed her phone in her back pocket and followed Mitch back to the computer.

"The DNA results," he told her. "They're...strange."

"Strange how?"

"It'll be best if we wait," he shook his head. "I need a few minutes to make sure I'm really seeing what I think I'm seeing."

"Okay," Jamie looked around. "Is there anything I can do in the meantime? Clean up?"

Mitch shrugged one shoulder but didn't take his eyes off the screen. "Suit yourself," he told her. "I was gonna leave it for the locals."

Jamie rolled her eyes and started picking up the chaos that had settled over the lab during the bear's attack. By the time all of the instruments and trays had been rescued and stowed properly, the others were bustling through the doors chattering about bears and hibernation and abnormal behavior traits.

Chloe managed to get Abe and Jackson to focus as Mitch turned the workstation so they could see. He'd gathered all of the relevant information, though Jamie could tell he was still unsure what it meant exactly.

"This," he brought up a panel, "is the DNA profile of the bear from the lab." He tapped a few keys and overlaid it with another. "And this is the same bear's DNA six years ago, when he was first tagged."

"It changed." Even Jamie, with her limited knowledge regarding anything remotely science related, could see the differences.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Because of the Mother Cell," she added.

"Uh, yes and no."

"What does that mean?" Jackson seemed to be just as confused as Jamie, which made her feel a bit better.

"Okay, think of this it way," Mitch shifted into professor mode easily. "None of the Earth's creatures are born perfect, right? We all have genetic anomalies, be it a birthmark, double-jointed wrists, webbed toes. But," he continued, "the anomalies that become the norm are the ones that are adaptive. That are more useful to survival, like," he held up his hands, "opposable thumbs."

"What does it have to do with the animals?" Chloe's direct question ended the science lesson and Mitch paused for a moment before refocusing his thoughts.

"The traits we've seen: the bear's endoskeleton, the bats flying abnormally high, lions seemingly communicating over long distances…"

"They all make their species more capable of survival," Jackson interrupted, like a student who had the answer to the teacher's question and couldn't wait to blurt it out. Jamie almost felt like she was back in high school. "Stronger. Better."

Mitch was on a roll now, and the others hung on every word as he moved on. "And what I think - just like our ancestors developed opposable thumbs - I think the Mother Cell is just accelerating these mutations in the animal kingdom that we would see occur naturally, but not for another several generations. Maybe a couple hundred years from now, depending on how long it takes us to screw up the planet."

Jamie wanted to make sure she understood exactly what he was saying. "But we're seeing it now because of the Mother Cell."

"But," Mitch turned back to the monitor, "here's the good news."

Jackson seemed to be on the same page now, surprising the other three by finishing Mitch's thought. "If the Mother Cell can make a naturally occurring situation worse, maybe it can do the opposite."

Even Mitch seemed impressed that Jackson had caught on so quickly. "Correct."

Jamie opened her mouth to ask the obvious question, but Abe beat her to it. "But what's the opposite?"

Mitch crossed his arms over his chest and tried to hide the smug pride in his tone, though Jamie thought he missed the mark. "Well, I think I can use the Mother Cell to craft a sort of countermeasure that could reverse the effects and return the animals' DNA to its original state."

"You can make a cure," Jamie abridged, ignoring the affronted glare he threw at her oversimplification. "How?"

"It doesn't matter how," Chloe cut him off before he could launch into another long-winded explanation chock full of words none of them would understand. "All that matters is that it will work. Are you sure it will?"

"Reasonably sure," Mitch shrugged. "Nothing is absolute, but I'm fairly confident I can concoct a...cure." Jamie stifled a grin at the exasperated look he tossed her as he used her word.

"Delavane needs to be informed," Chloe pulled out her cell. "I need to meet with him. Here," she dug in her bag for her house key. She handed it to Jackson, then scribbled her address on a scrap of paper on the desk. "I'll meet you back at my apartment."

During the drive, Jamie told Abe and Jackson about Mitch's meeting. Abe caught her eye in the rearview mirror as he navigated through the streets of Paris as Jackson turned to ask Mitch for details. She answered with a smile, just a small twitch of her lips, to let him know everything was fine.

"But is it a good idea to take it with you?" Jackson was saying.

"I don't know," Mitch shrugged. "I've never actually bribed an executive of a global corporation before."

"All I'm saying is," Jackson ignored Mitch's sarcasm, "you might not want to take your piece of the Mother Cell with you yet. Make sure he's ready to give you what you want first."

"Look at you, Jason Bourne," Jamie reached up and slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

"Who?" Mitch's face wrinkled in that adorable way that meant there was something he didn't understand and he didn't like it.

"Never mind," Jamie waved him off, "Jackson is right. You should probably leave the Mother Cell at Chloe's. That way he can't take it by force."

Mitch looked like he wanted to protest, but he was outnumbered and relented with another shrug. The conversation turned to the adventures in the catacombs as Abe parked the SUV in front of Chloe's apartment building. Jamie was laughing at Jackson's re-enactment of his clever distraction as they walked through the door.

"I'll get started on dinner," Abe offered.

"I need a shower," Jackson excused himself and disappeared into the guest bathroom with his bag, leaving Jamie and Mitch standing in the living room. She glanced around for something to occupy their time until dinner was ready, finally settling on a small bookshelf that held an assortment of novels and a few board games.

"Wanna see what French Scrabble looks like?" she moved over and slid the game box from underneath two others as Mitch laughed.

"I'm actually wondering how intoxicated I would have to be to play Scrabble with a professional writer," he shot back. "I'm gonna grab some wine and find out. Want some?"

"Sure." She set the board up on the dining room table anyway, and when he returned with two glasses she gave him her best pleading stare.

"Jamie, I skipped most of my English classes, remember?" She didn't let up and he sighed. "Fine," he chuckled, "but don't say I didn't warn you."

They spent the first few minutes discovering the point differences on the letter tiles from their English counterparts. Jackson emerged before Mitch could even play his first word, and Jamie talked him into playing with them. He drew a set of tiles reluctantly, but perked up when Abe brought him a glass of wine.

Predictably Jamie won the first game, though Mitch had kept up well in the early rounds using scientific terms. The first time he'd played one - borealis which he played off of Jackson's real - it had netted him quite a few points because he'd nabbed two triple word score tiles. Jamie had immediately challenged the word, claiming it was a Latin term and therefore not a real word. Mitch came back with several examples of the use of the word in everyday language, and Jackson had ended the argument with a quick internet search. Jamie had begrudgingly accepted her defeat, and Mitch grinned as Jackson added his ninety points. Jamie had fired back in the next two rounds with woolly and quick, earning her 65 and 64 points respectively, and kept a commanding lead for the rest of the game.

Abe joined them for the second round as his casserole baked in the oven and surprised them all by giving Jamie a run for her money. He held the lead for most of the game but Jamie had dug deep into her extensive vocabulary and managed a bingo on her last seven tiles, earning her an extra fifty points plus everyone else's remaining tiles.

"That's it," Mitch held up his hands in surrender, "there's only so much humiliation I'm willing to stand." He stood and collected his empty wine glass. "Refill anyone?"

"Just bring the bottle," Jackson was already bagging the tiles for a third game. "I'll go again; I'm not proud."

They were halfway through a third game - with Mitch sitting resignedly in his seat once more - when Chloe came home. She paused in the doorway, and Jamie looked up with an inquisitive smile.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes," Chloe looked around at the room at her friends, relaxed and happy in her home. "Everything is perfect."

"You want in on this massacre?" Mitch offered his own seat with a flourish. "Jamie's won the last two games and is now over a hundred points ahead of the next closest competitor."

"Sure." She took Mitch's place as he went to refill his glass. "Is there more of that?"

Mitch jiggled the bottle and grimaced. "No, but I can open another."

"Please." Mitch disappeared into the kitchen as the game resumed. Chloe played grain, which earned her a hefty score but not nearly enough to bridge the gap. Jamie added a B, L, and Y to Abe's right and connected two triple word scores. He added 207 to her already ridiculous lead and Jackson shook his head.

"Okay, from now on you're restricted to five tiles instead of seven."

Jamie smirked and finished her glass of wine. "If you think that'll help," she teased.

"What happened?" Mitch returned with a fresh bottle and topped off everyone's glasses. He glanced at the score sheet over Abe's shoulder and scoffed. "Did you make a sacrifice to the gods of Scrabble in your youth?"

"Nope," Jamie's tone was just this side of smug, "but my aunt and I played almost every night. And I was in a club in college."

"A Scrabble club?" Mitch raised an eyebrow. "And they called _me_ a nerd."

Jamie gasped and tossed a P at his face, but he dodged it and grabbed one of Abe's letters for a return volley. It hit her shoulder and bounced noisily onto the table. Chloe held up her hands to stop Jamie before she could retaliate as Jackson and Abe tried to muffle their laughter. A bell went off in the kitchen and Abe stood.

"That will be dinner." He escaped as Chloe picked up her wine and pointed at Mitch and Jamie.

"You two clean this up."

"But we didn't finish the game," Jamie protested.

Jackson stood and and followed Chloe into the living room. "We surrender, you win," he tossed over his shoulder. Jamie frowned and Mitch laughed, earning him a sharp glare from the journalist.

"What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," he was still smiling despite her tone as he scooped the tiles into the bag, "I just had no idea you were such a game board fanatic."

She shrugged and folded the board into a smaller square. "I know it's hard to believe, but there's not a lot to do in Folsom." Abe came in with his casserole in hand, and Jamie cleared the game box from the table as he set it down. Chloe and Jackson came back chatting about her meeting with Delavane.

"You really gave him an ultimatum?" Jackson sounded impressed.

"Not really," Chloe shook her head as she sat down. "I just told him if he was unhappy with the way I'm directing this team, then he could feel free to replace me."

"Sounds like an ultimatum to me," Jamie laughed. "What did he say to that?"

"Nothing. We parted ways and I came back here."

Jackson frowned as he reclaimed his seat. "You don't think he'll actually replace you, do you?"

"No, I don't think so," Chloe reassured them. "I'm already dug in, as the expression goes. It would take too long to catch up anyone new."

Conversation turned as the ate dinner, and Chloe fielded questions about her life in Paris. She, in turn, asked Mitch and Jamie about growing up in America. Mitch kept most of his answers succinct, but Jamie was more than happy to talk about her family and her life in Small Town, USA. In no time at all the casserole was gone and an air of contentedness settled over them.

"Thank you for dinner, Abe," Chloe toasted him with her near-empty glass and the others followed suit.

Jackson stood and collected everyone's plates. "I'll clean up."

The group dispersed then, retreating to their own corners of the apartment to get ready for bed. Jamie found Mitch fluffing a small pillow on the chaise lounge in the front sitting room.

"That looks uncomfortable."

Mitch grunted noncommittally and grabbed the ends of the quilt Chloe had found for him. "I've slept on worse." Jamie watched him continue to prepare his sleeping space, silently debating with herself about her next move. Finally she decided to go with her gut. No, she amended. With my heart. Just as Mitch was turning down the corner of the quilt, she reached around him and gathered it all up in her arms.

"Jamie, what -?"

"Come on, Professor," she turned and made her way down the small corridor with Mitch at her heels. She pushed through the door that led to her guest room and dumped the bedding on the floor by the dresser.

Mitch was hovering by the door when she turned around, his face a mixture of hesitation and confusion. "Is this more of my punishment for the whole Reiden exec thing? I have to sleep on the floor?"

"No," she laughed and beckoned him over. "I just think you need a good night's sleep in a real bed. You've got a cure to make, after all. We can't have our scientist falling out from exhaustion."

"Okay," he glanced at the bed that was a little smaller than an American double. "So you're sleeping on the floor?"

Sometimes his awkward cluelessness in social situations was just a little more adorable than Jamie could handle. She raised herself up on her toes to kiss him, encouraged when he responded quickly. It lasted longer than Jamie had planned but she wasn't complaining.

"Bed time," she directed him, turning him around and giving him a slight shove. "Go change into whatever it is you normally sleep in and come back."

"I normally sleep nude," he tossed over his shoulder, but went to do as she asked. Jamie changed into her own pajamas while he was gone, a comfortable tank and soft flannel pants. When Mitch returned in an undershirt, boxers, and a very comfortable looking flannel robe she was already under the covers. With the light off, Jamie felt more than saw his hesitation.

"Stop thinking so much and get in here." It took some adjustments, but eventually they both found a position that was comfortable. She draped half-over him and his left around was holding her against his side as she pillowed her head on his shoulder. Jamie suppressed a shiver as his fingertips traced over her bare shoulder in a light caress. He was already half asleep, she mused, as she pushed herself up far enough to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight."

"Night," he mumbled. "And I apologize in advance for anything my body does without my knowledge while I'm asleep."

She huffed in amusement but kept quiet as the sound of their breathing filled the room. Jamie stayed awake for a while longer, her mind refusing to wind down even after all of the wine. Even with the Mother Cell staying safely at Chloe's, Mitch was walking into a dangerous situation tomorrow morning. Clayton Burke could have bribed any number of law enforcement agencies or government entities, making sure Mitch would disappear and they'd never see him again.

"Now who's thinking too much?" Mitch's rasped quietly. "Go to sleep, Jamie." She sighed and forced herself to close her eyes and concentrate on her breathing like her uncle had taught her to. After her mother's death, sleep had been an elusive creature. And when it did come she was plagued by nightmares. Her uncle had sat with her one night and taught her the trick, and ever since Jamie used it when she had trouble sleeping. She felt the rise and fall of Mitch's chest beneath her and matched him as her thoughts quieted and she dozed off.

Jamie felt the bed shift, and when her eyes opened she was surprised to see the early hint of daylight sifting through the blinds. Mitch was trying to get out of the bed without disturbing her, but as she moved and stretched languidly he gave up with an apologetic smile.

"Good morning," he said, grabbing his robe from where he'd discarded it the night before. He wrapped it around himself and swiped his glasses from the bedside table.

"Morning," she kept her face half-turned into the pillow, groaning the word more than saying it.

Mitch chuckled and sat on the edge of the mattress. "Not a morning person?"

"Mmm," was her answer.

"Me either. But I have that meeting in a little over an hour."

She was awake then, pushing herself into a sitting position. "Be careful."

"I will," he promised. "You lay back down. No sense in both of us getting up this early." He left the room - presumably to get changed - and Jamie drifted off into a light doze. When the bed sank again, Mitch was dressed and staring down at her. "I'll be back soon." He stood up, pausing when Jamie's hand shot from beneath the covers to grip his sleeve. She hauled herself up and kissed him quickly, her eyes still half-closed in sleep.

"Good luck."

She watched him go, waiting until he'd closed the door behind him before turning over and going back to sleep.


	8. Cheese Stands Alone - Betting the Farm

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 8: The Cheese Stands Alone - Betting the Farm

 _Mitch spends time with his daughter while the rest of the team deals with rat infestation on a nearby island._

* * *

"We'll have to take a water taxi to Pender Island," Jackson told them as they deplaned at Boston Logan. "Mitch, you sure you'll be alright on your own?"

"Yeah," the scientist shouldered his bag and adjusted his glasses. Jamie had talked him into taking the day away from the madness and spend time with his daughter. He'd resisted at first, citing their newest mission. They might need him, he'd argued. Chloe had actually jumped in, telling him they were capturing two specimens anyway and he'd have a chance to examine the rats before sending them to Delavane. Jamie had grinned triumphantly and prodded him until he'd called Audra to set it up. He felt his stomach flip nervously at the thought of seeing his daughter again. A million different emotions coursed through him, all warring for dominance. He finally settled on hesitant optimism, but the doubt and fear he'd been feeling at her possible rejection were lurking just beneath the surface.

"Besides," Chloe went on, "it would be harder to explain our presence to Burke if he happened to have anyone shadowing you."

"There's a fun thought," Mitch mumbled.

Abe chuckled and began leading them toward the large glass doors that led to the causeway. "I, for one, will be happy for a mode of transportation that's not airborne. I've had enough of planes for a while, thank you."

The others had to agree. In the past few weeks they'd been on four different continents, and they'd never stayed in one place longer than a few days at a time. Paris had been a nice reprieve; Chloe had talked Delavane into giving them a day off after the bear fiasco. It had lasted almost twelve hours before the man had contacted Chloe with a story about a boat and what sounded like an alarming amount of rats.

"We can take a taxi to the docks," Jackson said, but Mitch shook his head.

"It's on the way to Audra's," he told them. "I can drop you."

He ended up parking and walking with them to where the boat was waiting to ferry them across Quincy Bay to the small island. Jamie was the last out of the car, and when Mitch turned back she had a pinched look on her face.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," she shook her head and pushed her hair back away from her face. The breeze from the bay danced through it again and she huffed in annoyance. "I'm just not the biggest fan of boats."

"You get seasick?" He had never experienced motion sickness himself, but his mother had been lousy with it whenever they took long car trips.

"I've only ever been on a boat once," she admitted as they followed the others toward the dock. "My uncle took me out on Lake Ramsay once when I was eight. I threw up over the side and my cousins laughed at me."

"You never went again?"

"Nope," Jamie shook her head. "And I don't have to go now."

"Jamie…" It wasn't that he didn't want her with him, but Chloe was right. He couldn't meet Burke with someone else in tow and there was no way in hell he was leaving her at Audra's. Besides, he told himself, it was probably a little too early in the relationship to introduce her to his daughter. And there was that pesky matter of Ben Schaffer's death that still hung over their heads.

"I'm just saying all four of us don't need to go," she was beginning to sound a little desperate. "I could stay in a motel and go through the Reiden documents from Paris while you meet with Burke."

"I think you should stay with the others," he told her. Her hopeful face fell and he reached out to take her hand. "A day on the island is a good way to stay under the radar. And," he added, "if anyone is looking into Ben Schaffer's death, the more people you have watching your back the better."

"Careful," she said as her lips quirked into a smile, "you keep saying things like that people are gonna start to think you care."

"Well," he adjusted his hold on her hand so he could slip his fingers between hers, "as long as those 'people' are you, that's fine. Just don't spread it around." He tugged her to him and kissed her quickly.

She pulled away but kept a hold of his hand. "Enjoy the day with your daughter. And don't overthink stuff. Just...be you." He winced and she laughed. "It'll be fine, Mitch." She paused then, and Mitch knew she was debating on voicing her thoughts. He squeezed her hand to let her know he was listening and she took a breath. "After my dad left, I spent so many nights wishing he'd come back."

"Jamie," he swallowed heavily and shook his head.

"No, let me say it. Because I need to, and you need to hear it. She's gonna be angry, it's normal. But she's also going to be so happy to have her dad back. So focus on that second part and don't be discouraged by the first."

He smiled and nodded, pulling her close for another kiss. "Be careful."

"You, too." She glanced over her shoulder at the boat that would take them to Pender Island. "Man, I really don't like boats."

"Here," he lifted her hand and turned it over, palm up. He let his fingers dance over the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, tracing the veins and tendons there. He heard her take in a sharp breath, but she didn't say anything. "If you're feeling sick," he told her, "find this point." He let his thumb sit just between the two tendons about two inches from her wrist. "Push deep and hold it until the nausea passes."

"I thought acupressure wasn't scientifically proven," she quipped, and he tried not to notice how her voice had dropped to a near whisper.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "there isn't any verifiable proof that the points exist. But my mom swears by them." He let his thumb caress her skin for a few seconds. "Time to go."

She groaned and dropped her head in defeat. Mitch laughed and released her, waving at the others who had gathered at a discreet distance away to wait for Jamie. None of them had mentioned anything about him and Jamie, but ever since they'd shared Chloe's guest room Mitch had caught Abe and Jackson giving him sly glances. Even Chloe seemed not to care, though more than once Mitch had caught her and Jamie whispering fervently whenever they had a moment away from the guys.

He waited until the boat was underway before pulling out his phone and texting Audra to let her know he was on his way. She responded with a short "ok," and Mitch could feel her antagonism through the phone. She hadn't been happy when Mitch had requested to spend a day with Clementine, but Audra was at her core a glass half full sort of person. As long as she felt Mitch was being sincere, she wouldn't deny him the opportunity to reconnect with Clementine no matter how she felt about it personally.

The drive to the quaint suburban neighborhood took a little longer than Mitch liked, though he chalked most of his irritation up to nerves. He pulled up to the two story house and sat in the car for a full five minutes before he was able to talk himself into ringing the bell.

Fifteen minutes later Clem was buckling herself into the passenger seat of his rented car as Mitch settled Henry into the back. It hadn't been quite as bad as he'd thought it would be, though Clem had apparently inherited his snide aloofness. The ride to the park was silent except for her quiet directions and the sounds of Henry in the backseat. When they pulled up, the dog barked softly in excitement and very nearly danced in place until Clem opened the door and grabbed his leash. Mitch grabbed his bag and Clem's backpack and locked the doors as the girl led them to a secluded bench at the side of the park.

They sat down rather awkwardly next to each other, and Henry settled at Clem's feet like he'd done it a thousand times. Mitch felt it was his job as the adult to start the conversation, but he had nothing to say. Glancing around, he grasped at the only thing he could think of.

"Nice park you've got here. What makes it yours?" He looked over at his daughter, the picture of discomfort and doubt with her arms crossed and her eyes anywhere but on Mitch.

"Well," she began, "Mom never really lets me out of the house by myself anymore. But when she does I'm allowed to come here. With Henry," she added with a little hand gesture at the resting pup.

Mitch nodded awkwardly and fell silent. They both knew why Clem couldn't enjoy being a kid like other children. He glanced around at the families dotted around the park, the kids playing on the playground, and felt a twinge of sadness. When Clem had been born, he'd had such hopes and dreams about being a better father than his own had been. He remembered the first time he'd seen Clem's tiny face; it had been one of the first and only times he'd actually cried from joy. Still, to this day, Clem was the only thing that could elicit such strong emotion from him.

"Oh," he turned suddenly and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. "I, uh, brought you a present." Thinking about Clem's birth had sparked another memory, and he plucked a small scrap of paper from one of the slits and handed it to her.

"A piece of paper."

Yep, she'd definitely inherited his snark.

"Open it," he told her with more excitement than was probably due.

She looked at it in disbelief. "You do know I'm still at the age where I would play with a doll, right? A doll would have been fine." She at least seemed to be more at ease with him, he noticed as she cracked a small smile.

"Duly noted," he returned with an equally pleased tone. "Just open it."

She did as he asked and stared at it for a few seconds. "A parking ticket. You got me a parking ticket." He nodded happily, her confusion only fueling his amusement. "A really old parking ticket," she clarified.

And so he told her the story that filled his thoughts every time he looked at that parking ticket. He kept it where he would always see it and be reminded of that day. At the end she smiled, a real one that warmed her face and his heart. She even joked with him, and for a moment he could pretend that they weren't virtual strangers that were trying to forge a connection that should never have been severed in the first place.

"Let's eat," Clem pocketed the parking ticket and dug into her backpack for the sandwiches Audra had packed. She handed him one and grabbed the other for herself.

"I remember your mother's cooking is not so good," he unwrapped his hesitantly and peered at it. "Have these been approved by the FDA?"

"Afraid not," she answered smartly. She looked at her own and grimaced. "What is it?"

Mitch peeled back the top layer of bread and made a show of studying it closely. "That's either very old cheese or very new meat." Clem shrugged and finished unwrapping it, trusting that her mother wouldn't serve her anything that would be harmful. Mitch, following her lead, took a bite and chewed slowly. It wasn't horrible and was more than likely turkey. Or something like it.

"Do you have a wife? Or a girlfriend?" Clem's question caught him off-guard and he choked slightly on his half-chewed bite. He swallowed and tried to figure out how to answer her question. He and Jamie hadn't actually talked about labels or making anything official. The whole thing really felt sort of grade school-ish, and Mitch was happy to just let things progress naturally.

"Uh," he glanced down at his food as though it held an answer that would be satisfactory. He decided on the truth. "Sort of. Jamie and I have been...seeing each other for a few weeks now."

"What's she like?" Clem's open honesty and child-like naivety was refreshing, and Mitch found himself willing to share in a way that only Jamie had ever elicited from him.

"She's...tenacious, and smart. She's a journalist for a big paper in L.A." Mitch left out the part where she'd been fired from that job and was currently a part of a super secret team with him in order to find out why animals all over the world were suddenly changing.

"Is she pretty?"

"Yeah," Mitch smiled, and dug out his phone. Jamie had grabbed it one day while he was working and took a selfie to set as her contact photo in his address book. He'd teased her about her technology fixation, to which she'd stuck out her tongue and clicked a few of him that he'd deleted as soon as she'd given him his phone back. He found the photo in his gallery and showed his daughter.

"I like her hair," Clem handed the device back and finished her sandwich. "Can I meet her?"

"Maybe next time," Mitch smiled and pocketed his phone before returning to his own sandwich.

They ate for a few minutes before Clem began talking again. He guessed silences weren't really her forte. "You haven't met Justin, right?"

"No," he shook his head. "Just on the phone. You like him?"

"I do," Clem nodded. "A lot." Mitch felt a small pang of jealousy, but squashed it immediately. Audra and Clem were lucky enough to have found someone to love them; Mitch certainly wasn't going to begrudge them that. "He's awesome," Clem continued. Then, because she must have sensed his mood change, she added, "I don't call him 'Dad' or anything, in case you were wondering."

There was nothing to say to that that didn't make him sound like an ass, so he settled for, "Okay." Honestly he hadn't ever thought about it - figured it wasn't his business after deciding to remove himself from their lives. But, if he was being honest with himself, it did make him feel better. When Clem shifted a little in her seat, he searched for another topic. "How are you feeling?" He knew her disease wasn't physically debilitating. She wouldn't tire easily or suddenly need to rest, but the seizures could happen practically at any time.

But Clem just shrugged. "Not bad, for a dead girl."

Her words hit him hard, and he sucked in a breath as he fought against the rather sudden and visceral reaction he had to her words. Instead, he tried to keep his tone even as he scolded her lightly. "You know, you really shouldn't call yourself that." Especially since it might not be true in a few months, he added silently. If everything went well and the medicine worked, she would be free of Glazier's and able to live her life just like any other healthy kid.

"Why not?" Clem shot back. "It's what the other kids call me." Several thoughts flitted through his mind at her confession, ranging from the adult ( _someone should have a talk with those kids_ ) to the childish ( _I wonder how hard I could punch a kid and make it look like an accident_ ).

He opted for somewhere in the middle.

"You can't give up hope, Clem. There are new trials and medicines coming out all the time."

"Yeah," she shrugged, unconvinced. "I just wish I could be a kid, you know? And not have to worry about…" she trailed off, glancing down at Henry. Unless he was wearing his service vest, most people thought he was just a pet - a well-behaved lab that followed his human around happily. Few knew just how many times he'd saved the girl next to him.

Mitch made a decision, clapping his hands on his thighs before standing. He gathered their trash and threw it away before reaching for Clem's hand. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" She grabbed his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Henry stood up excitedly and wagged his tail as they each picked up their bags.

"I promised you a father-daughter day. That's what we're going to do."

"Okay," Clem laughed a bit and let him pull her back to the car. "So are we going to the zoo or something?"

"Uh, no," he shook his head. "No zoos." He really wasn't sure how many zoos had been affected by the animal crisis gripping the world, but he wasn't going to risk his daughter's life. "But we can do other things. Like go to a museum, or the movies, or the mall."

"You'd actually take me to the mall?" she asked skeptically.

"I would," opened the door to the SUV to let Henry jump up into the backseat. "I make no promises on complaints and grumbling, but we can go if you want to. Anything you want, Clem."

She moved around and climbed up into the passenger seat as he buckled up and started the engine. "This isn't one of those guilt things where you over-do it on the gifts and special trips to make up for -" She cut herself off quickly and flushed a bit in embarrassment, but Mitch caught her meaning.

"Clem, look at me," he twisted a bit in his seat to face her more fully. "There's nothing I can do that can make up for not being around for the last eight years. And I'm not going to suddenly start sending you big gifts to buy your love or anything like that. But I do want to spend time with you, get to know you."

"Before I die?"

Mitch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Clem, please don't...let's not mention that, okay?"

"But it's true," she turned to look through the windshield. "You don't want to feel guilty after I'm gone."

She was perceptive, and brutally honest. At any other time, Mitch would applaud her and perhaps even feel a little proud at the traits she'd obviously gotten from him. Now he just felt defeated.

"Maybe," he admitted. "That's probably part of it. But I also recently realized that I was being stupid. I was staying away because it was too painful for me to know that one day I would look up and you would be gone. I thought if I distanced myself then maybe I wouldn't hurt as much. I know that's selfish and it probably doesn't endear me to you any, but it's the truth." His throat felt tight as he fought against losing complete control in front of her, but he felt the sting of tears in his eyes and knew she could see them as well.

"What changed?" she asked after a while.

"I met Jamie," Mitch smiled wryly. "She lost her mother when she was about your age, and it shouldn't have happened. She got sick and the people who caused it didn't take responsibility. And instead of burying her mother and moving on, she devotes every day of her life to getting justice. She reminds herself of that pain every day, instead of running from it."

"She sounds...pretty cool."

Mitch nodded and turned his head to wipe his eyes dry. "She is."

"Does she know about me?" Clem had relaxed in her seat and her question was curious rather than accusatory.

"Yeah," Mitch nodded. "I told her a couple of weeks ago. She's the one who suggested I come over today. And she even gave me a pep talk before I came over."

"What did she say?"

"She said you would be angry," he told her honestly. "Her dad left after her mom got sick. She hasn't seen him for a long time, so she knows what it's like." He cleared his throat quietly. "She, uh, also said that even though you'd be angry, you'd be happy to see me?" He phrased this last as a question, adding a hopeful smile at the girl next to him.

She returned it with a small one of her own. "Yeah, I am."

They were okay again, and Mitch relaxed in his seat. "So where are we headed?"

They ended up at an indoor rock climbing gym that Clem had always wanted to try. Audra had been too busy to go with her, but Mitch was happy to take her. They slipped Henry's service vest on and he laid obediently at Mitch's feet as he belayed for her. Mitch refused to go up until Clem practically begged, and when he relented she clapped and grinned so happily that he was sure he'd agree to anything. She stayed on the ground next to Henry as Mitch climbed, assisted by one of the workers. He wasn't very good at it and fell off the wall several times, but eventually he made it to the top. When he reached solid ground again she teased him about spending all his time in labs and started calling him "Professor" whenever she could. He could tell she was still hesitant about calling him dad, so he just accepted her teasing and went back to belaying as she scaled the wall a few more times.

They got ice cream afterward and took a stroll through a flea market. Clem talked Mitch into buying a small globe for her desk after she found out he was traveling all over the world ( _for work_ , he told her), and he picked up an old toy boat to give to Jamie when he next saw her. During dinner at Clem's favorite restaurant she grabbed his phone and programmed her number in so he could stay in touch. He was busy perusing the menu so he missed the small smile she hid behind her hand before giving it back. Audra called shortly afterward and politely informed them that Clem's bedtime was ten o'clock, which Mitch promised to abide by. As much as he wanted to spend every moment with his daughter, he had a nine o'clock meeting to get to. If all went well, Clem would be taking the medicine as early as tomorrow and would be completely well in just a few months. It was enough to make up for the couple of hours he would have to miss.

It was six minutes to eight when he pulled up outside of Audra's house. Clem had fallen asleep in her seat, hunched sideways against the door. He let Henry out first, then carefully maneuvered Clem so he could open the door without her spilling out. He picked her up easily, fighting a wave of emotion as she snuggled against his chest and laid her head on his shoulder. Audra actually smiled when she opened the front door, and instead of taking the girl she led him upstairs to Clem's bedroom.

Mitch didn't even attempt to change her into pajamas. It had been a snap when she was a toddler. Ten year old Clem would prove a tad more difficult to manage. As he laid her in her bed and covered her with the blanket, she stirred and cracked her eyes open.

"That was a good day," she mumbled sleepily. He tucked her in and crouched down to push an errant lock of blonde hair away from her face. "You should come around more often, Professor."

"Yeah, I think so, too," he agreed. He stood and leaned over to kiss her head. "Goodnight, Clem. I love you."

She mumbled something in reply that sounded like "Love you, too." Mitch followed Audra out of the room and down the stairs as quietly as possible. Their goodbye wasn't as heartfelt, and as Mitch walked back down the sidewalk toward the car he felt miserable. He wanted to tell her the truth, that he had come back to possibly save their daughter's life. But he couldn't. He couldn't give her that kind of hope and then have it dashed if this whole deal fell through. He pulled out his phone to call Burke and noticed that Clem had left it on his text messages. There were a few he didn't remember, and as he scrolled back through them he felt his heart lift slightly. While she'd had his phone at dinner, she must have found Jamie's name and had an entire conversation with the woman without his knowledge.

It had started out simply. Clem had sent just two words, but they meant everything to Mitch.

 _Thank you. - Clementine_

Jamie had responded immediately, like she usually did. Mitch had an astounding ability to forget he even had a phone, much less check it for messages.

 _You're welcome. Are you having fun?_

 _Yes. It's been a great day. We went indoor rock climbing._

 _Oh?_ Mitch groaned as he imagined the merciless teasing that was in store when he caught back up with the others. _How did that go?_

 _Good. He fell off three times._

 _LOL Get any pics?_

 _No. :( Gotta go. Mitch wants his phone back._

Mitch hit the phone icon next to Jamie's name as he pulled away from Audra's house. She picked up on the second ring, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," he caught himself smiling. "How was your day?"

" _Ugh_ , don't get me started. If I never see another rat again it will be too soon. Yours?"

"Good. It was good. But then," he added slyly, "you already knew that."

"Busted," she laughed. "She seems like a great kid."

"She really is." Mitch had never seen himself as the proud parent type. His own experiences with his father had put him off ever having children of his own. When Audra had come to him crying one night, he knew that plan had failed. Now, though, he couldn't imagine a world without Clementine in it. "Listen, I'm on my way to Reiden to meet with Burke. It shouldn't take me more than an hour, but I don't know."

"We're staying here overnight and catching the first ferry back in the morning," Jamie told him. "Will you text me when you're done? You know, so I know everything went well."

"Yeah, let's think happy thoughts shall we?" Mitch knew very well what could happen at Reiden. He could be arrested on sight, though he doubted Burke would involve any official authorities. It was likely he could disappear down a corporate rabbit hole, never to be seen again. Or he could be killed and dumped in the Charles River.

"Mitch Morgan, the optimist?" Jamie teased.

"No," he shot back, "Mitch Morgan, the pragmatist. The easiest solution for Burke is to give me what I want. It's of minimal cost to the company and nets them the greatest gain."

"The Mother Cell."

"Exactly. So I'll talk to you later."

He hung up and began weaving through the suburbs of Boston en route to Reiden's corporate headquarters. He parked in the structure and took several calming breaths before getting out. His bag felt heavier as he walked quickly through the empty garage to a set of elevators. Burke had told him there was a pedestrian bridge on the fifth floor of the garage that led right into Reiden's main building. There was a special code to access the door, and Burke had warned Mitch that the four digit number he'd given him would only work for one hour. It was ten minutes to nine when he keyed it in, watching as the red light flashed green and the door buzzed as it unlocked.

Mitch found Burke's office by following the signs for the executive suite. When he arrived there was a thin man with dark hair and angled features sitting behind a small desk.

"I'm here to see Burke," Mitch stated.

"Your name, sir?"

"Just tell him someone's here to see him, will ya? He knows who I am." Mitch had been hesitant about giving Burke his name. He didn't want anything to come back on him or the others once they were clear. The assistant stood with a frown but did as Mitch asked. After a few moments he returned and ushered Mitch forward.

Burke's office was the epitome of executive luxury. Large glass windows displayed the majesty of the Boston skyline, and a large desk sat in front of them. There was very little in the way of personalization - a single photo frame sat next to the computer screen on his desk. Burke himself wasn't there, but his assistant gestured for him to take a seat.

Mitch held his messenger bag in his lap, willing his heart to stop pounding so hard. Footsteps startled him but he masked his surprise as Burke entered. "This would be much more civilized if you'd just give me your name. My assistant told me, 'That man is here. The surly one.' That's what he called you." He'd come in with a small black case, and as he sat down he placed it on the desk carefully. Mitch's eyes dropped immediately to the case, knowing it contained the one thing in the entire world that could save his daughter.

"Can we just get this over with?"

Burke sighed and slid the case over. "There should be more than enough here to help your daughter." Mitch stared at him a moment, then reached to unzip it. "It's a six week course of treatment," Burke went on as Mitch inspected the contents. "The protocol is simple: two pills three times a day."

Mitch stared at the medicine and tried not to let his excitement show. Instead he projected what he knew Burke would be looking for - the nervousness, the hesitation. He was supposed to be betraying his friends, after all. It wouldn't look good if he was suddenly elated and friendly. Slowly he reached into his bag for the cylindrical container. The piece of the Mother Cell had slotted nicely back in place, turned so that the chipped face was on the inside and out of immediate view. Mitch gripped it tightly as he pulled it out of his bag and began to hand it across the desk.

Movement over Burke's shoulder caught his attention, and Mitch realized that he could see into far corridor through the window behind him. Time seemed to freeze as Mitch focused on the familiar face, distant though it was.

Delavane stood conversing with another man, looking for all the world like he belonged there. Burke didn't seem to notice Mitch's revelation and reached his hand across the desk for the container.

"The Mother Cell."

Mitch felt his stomach drop as the truth washed over him. They'd been played from the beginning. Just before he could hand off the mineral and be gone, Delavane looked up. His eyes locked with Mitch's and he froze. He tried to keep his attention on whatever his companion was saying, but his entire body language spoke another story. Mitch knew he was already planning how to intervene, how to keep Mitch from leaving the building.

He needed to get out. _Now_.


	9. Murmuration - Birds of a Feather

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 9: Murmuration - Birds of a Feather

 _After discovering their benefactor is a Reiden employee, the team takes matters into their own hands._

* * *

Jamie's phone rang loudly in the small hotel room. Next to her Chloe stirred but didn't wake. She grabbed her phone and pressed the green button, stepping outside to keep from disturbing her roommate as she brought the device to her ear.

"Mitch, where are you?" She had been on edge from the moment they'd disconnected earlier. He had walked into the proverbial lion's den holding a piece of bloody meat, and the fact that he hadn't called yet had worried her.

"We have a problem," he rasped, breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

"What?"

"Delavane was at Reiden. He's working for them." She could hear the bustle of traffic around him, like he was still on the move. Jamie banged on the door next to hers, waking Jackson and Abe even as she moved back to her own room. When they stepped out she gestured frantically for them to follow as she opened her door.

"You're on speaker," She switched over as Chloe began to rouse and Jackson closed the door behind him. "Repeat that."

"Delavane was at Reiden," Mitch said, "talking to another man in a suit and looking very comfortable." Chloe sat up and swung her feet to the floor as Jamie sat down on the edge of the bed. "He's not who we think he is."

Abe crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the small dresser. "How can you be so sure? Maybe he had a good reason to be there."

"I saw his face," Mitch snapped back. "He wasn't there because it was Bring Your Shadowy Interpol Agent to the Office Day. He was there because he works there." He sounded very agitated, and Jamie's worry for him ratcheted up.

"Are you in a safe place right now?"

"I think so," he told her. "I'm going to crash at a friend's house." Jamie remembered his guy at MIT who had researched the bacteria they'd found in the wolf's brain. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Still, she was glad he had a friend in the area.

Chloe finally woke up enough to join the conversation. "Did Delavane see you?"

There was a beat of silence. "Yeah," Mitch sighed. "Listen, we obviously can't go back to the hotel that Delavane set up. Just...stay safe and call me when you get off the boat tomorrow."

"Did you get the medicine for your daughter?" Jamie asked. If Delavane had seen him, then it was likely Burke knew who he was now. They had thought it best if Mitch never told the VP his name to avoid any backlash that might come down on Audra or Clem. That was obviously a moot point now.

"Yeah, but it's too late to get it to her now, and she has a doctor's appointment at eight thirty tomorrow. I'll have to get it to her after that." He sounded calmer now, and the ambient noise that had almost been deafening a few moments ago had faded away. "The ferry arrives at the dock around ten. I'll meet you guys there before going to Audra's."

"Okay, be safe," Jamie urged. She hung up, casting the room into a heavy silence.

Chloe was the first to break it. "This is bad."

Abe shook his head and pushed off the dresser to stand at his full height. "So the company that put us together is the same company that we're trying to take down?"

Jamie shrugged. "It appears that way."

"But why?" Jackson spoke up for the first time from his place by the door. "Why would Delavane put us together if there was a chance of us uncovering the truth?"

"I don't know," Chloe answered. "But maybe we can get more answers from Mitch tomorrow."

Jamie didn't sleep at all that night. Her thoughts were split between worrying for Mitch and trying to figure out the new twist in the mystery they'd been tasked to solve. Jackson's question repeated over and over in her mind until finally she couldn't lie still any more. Keeping her screen angled away from Chloe's bed, she spent the remainder of the night flipping through Leo Butler's ledger and the documents they'd appropriated from the Reiden servers.

Jamie was running on adrenaline and caffeine as the ferry glided across the water toward the mainland. Mitch was leaning against a pillar when they disembarked, his relaxed posture belied by the clench of his jaw and the deep circles under his eyes. Jamie made a beeline for him, wrapping her arms around him for a brief hug as the others huddled around them.

"You okay?" Chloe asked him, and Mitch nodded.

Jamie stepped back and eyed the small black case he clutched in one hand. "That the medicine?"

"Yeah," he held it up. "Six weeks of treatment and she's cured." She could see the emotion he was holding in, and she reached out to squeeze his arm in support.

"I am happy for your daughter," Abe began, "but we must also think about what happens next." Chloe's phone rang, startling all of them, and she stepped away to answer as Jamie refocused them on their mission.

"The Mother Cell. How do we use it to make a cure?"

"I believe if we introduce the Mother Cell into the DNA of a mutated animal, we could possibly synthesize a cure. But here's the problem," he winced slightly. "In order to do that, we need an animal who has mutated but not been exposed to the Mother Cell."

"But does such an animal even exist?" Abe asked. "Every animal we've come into contact with has been mutated because of Reiden."

"And even if there is," Jackson added, "how could we possibly find it? There are infected animals on every continent."

"I know," Mitch agreed. "It's like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. In every country on Earth. But without that needle, we don't have a cure." As the enormity of that task sank in, Chloe rejoined them with a panicked look on her face.

"We have to go," she urged.

"What happened?" Jackson asked.

"That was my colleague at the DGSE," she told them. "The FBI has just issued a warrant for my arrest. Jamie's too."

A cold stab of dread shot through Jamie as she covered her mouth. "Ben Schaffer," she muttered. "Oh my God, Chloe. I'm so sorry." She felt Mitch's eyes on her, and as she looked up at him he grasped her hand in his. Ben's ghost had been haunting her ever since that fateful day in the stairwell. She'd managed to make peace with it by remembering that he would have killed her and Jackson if she hadn't acted. It still didn't make her feel any better about being a federal fugitive, or dragging her friends into the mess with her.

"There's nothing to apologize for," Chloe ushered them away from the docks. "But it's only a matter of time before they connect the rest of you. We have to go, guys."

"Hey, hey, hold on," Jackson held up a hand. "Go where? If the FBI is after us, if Delavane works for Reiden, where are we gonna go?"

"Yeah, I don't speak spy," Mitch added, "but it pretty much feels like game over." Jamie felt him squeeze her hand a little tighter as he spoke. She thought briefly again about turning herself in. She might be able to strike a deal and keep her friends out of jail. But she knew even as the thought hit her that the others would never accept it. Mitch alone would fight tooth and nail to keep her away from the hands of the government, and he would be right. She knew too much about Reiden, about what was going on. If Reiden and the feds ever caught up with them, they would simply disappear.

"First we should get out of the open," Abe marshaled everyone and gestured for them to head for the car. He took the keys from Mitch and climbed into the driver's seat as the others piled in. "Chloe, can you find a phone store nearby? We will need to purchase prepaid phones and turn off our old ones."

As Abe, Chloe and Jackson discussed their next moves, Jamie leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. The image of Ben Schaffer's surprised face was forever burned in her memory. She knew it was likely she would never forget it. The exhaustion from last night compounded with the weariness she was beginning to feel as their mission grew ever more insurmountable, and she sagged under the weight of it.

"You okay?" Mitch's voice was pitched low to keep from alerting the others, and he was angled toward her in the back seat with only a few inches between them.

Jamie didn't open her eyes as she replied in the most sardonic tone she could muster. "Peachy."

"Listen, for what it's worth," he settled a warm hand on her leg, letting his thumb stroke the outer edge of her knee, "I'm sorry. If I had known Delavane was there…"

"No," Jamie raised her head and opened her eyes. "It's not your fault. No one could have known." Her attention turned briefly to the plans hatching in the front of the SUV and she grimaced. "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. Chloe's right - it's only a matter of time before they connect all of you to me, and to Ben Schaffer's death. What will your daughter think when she sees her dad's wanted for murder?"

"It wasn't murder," Mitch insisted firmly. "It was self-defense. But there's little chance of the truth being told as long as Reiden holds the cards. We need to get the cure, and then expose them and all of their corruption. Then we can clear your name."

"You need to get that to Clem," Jamie indicated the small case he still held in his lap.

"I will," he promised, shifting his hand to hold hers tightly. "And then we'll find the cure together." She had nothing to say to that, so she let her head fall back against the headrest as she stifled a yawn. She could practically feel his concern for her coming off of him in waves. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"No." Exhaustion made her honest; she couldn't even utter a white lie to ease his worry. "I was up all night going through the Reiden documents and Leo's ledger. I couldn't find anything about Ben Schaffer in the Reiden stuff, but Leo's book has a lot of damning information."

"You didn't really sleep on the plane, either," he pointed out. "You need to rest, Jamie."

"I"ll rest when Reiden is held responsible and I'm not on the FBI's Most Wanted list," she shot back. He seemed to sense her snappish attitude stemmed from her lack of sleep rather than irritation with him, so he fell silent and let her be.

Abe pulled up a few blocks from a small pay-as-you-go phone store tucked into a string of shops next to an alley. They all piled out to go inside, but Abe stopped them before they reached the door.

"Maybe I should go alone," he held out his hand for the cash Chloe still had, and she pulled out a few bills. They posted up just outside the door, leaning against the storefront and trying to look as casual as possible.

Jamie was the one to point out they were probably failing. "Maybe we should not be standing around in a clump like this."

Before anyone could agree, the door opened and Abe walked out with a large bag. They followed him to a side street as he handed out the phones. "From now on, we pay cash for everything. And no more contact with friends or family."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Mitch argued. "I need to get this medicine to Clem."

Behind them, a siren whooped and Jamie's heart seized with fear. Had someone spotted them? Recognized them? Would her friends now be facing accomplice charges? Panic gripped her as she tried not to stare at the police car that was cruising down the street. It didn't seem to be slowing down, and so she kept cool. It passed them, and they collectively breathed a sigh of relief as it turned a corner out of sight.

"Guys, stop," Jackson grabbed their attention, and they turned as one to face him. "This isn't gonna work," he held up the phone. "We can't just be reactive to this thing. We need to get out in front of it." His voice grew more emphatic as he spoke. "We've been together for a couple of months now as a team, and we're doing pretty good. Now we gotta save our own asses and save the world."

It sounded a bit melodramatic, but Jamie wasn't going to point it out. Mitch, on the other hand, had no such reluctance. "That's a bit dramatic, but well said."

"Agreed," Chloe added succinctly. "What's the plan?"

Jackson seemed surprised that they were all suddenly looking at him, but he took it in stride and nodded. "Alright, first off we gotta go public with this thing. Now, we need a more official outlet than your blog, Jamie. But we obviously can't risk just walking into a news station, so who do you know? Do you know somebody you can contact?"

Jamie ran through a mental list of her colleagues and friends, dismissing almost ninety percent of them automatically. Of those left, only one lived in Boston. Realizing the others were waiting for her response, she nodded quickly. "Yeah."

"Okay," he turned to his oldest friend. "Abe, take Mitch and the car and go get those meds to Clementine." Something passed between Mitch and the younger man in that moment that Jamie had a hard time understanding, but whatever issues they had with each in the past seemed to finally be gone and buried.

"Okay," Abe seemed to sense it too, and Jamie thought she saw the barest hint of approval on his face.

"What about us?" Chloe asked.

"I've got an idea for us," Jackson said cryptically.

"We need a place to meet when we're finished," Jamie said.

"How about there?" Mitch pointed across the street to a local bar. "It's close and it has the added benefit of adult beverages to top off our very wacky day."

"Okay," Jackson agreed. "Jamie, contact your source and see if they can meet you somewhere."

"Where?"

Jackson took a chance and turned on his phone, checking the area quickly before shutting off again. "There's warehouses along Madison," he said. "Any of them should work."

"3rd street is the closest cross street," Mitch added.

"Alright, Madison and 3rd it is. Have him meet you in a couple of hours. That should give Chloe and I enough time to finish with our part and get back here to go with you. We'll meet you at the bar when we're done."

"Done with what?" Chloe asked.

"I'll tell you on the way. Everyone be careful." The two of them moved off to hail a taxi, heads bent discussing whatever plan Jackson had come up with. Abe moved to their car, mumbling something about changing plates as Mitch turned to Jamie.

"You gonna be okay on your own?" His forehead was wrinkled with worry, and Jamie mustered her most confident smile.

"Yeah, Wilson and I went to college together. He ended up marrying my dormmate. I trust him."

"Here," he rifled through his bag and pulled out a dark blue hat and a large pair of sunglasses. "I grabbed these after I left Reiden last night. If the feds released your face to the public, they'll help disguise you."

She chuckled ruefully as she took the proffered items. "I think maybe you've seen one too many spy movies." He returned her wry smile with one of his own, but she could see the agitation that tightened his shoulders. She slipped the hat on, tucking her hair behind her ears before slipping the sunglasses on. Mitch nodded in approval and reached out to adjust the hat.

"Very spy chic," he joked, though she could see the hesitation lurking in his eyes.

"I'll be fine," she told him. "You get that medicine to Clementine. See you back here in a few hours." She patted him on the shoulder as she moved away and resisted the urge to look back. She could feel his eyes on her as she turned the corner and pulled out her phone. She had spent the drive to the phone store copying down every number of importance from her phone before she shut it off. She was glad for it now; she didn't want to risk anyone tracking her movements and finding her before she could get her story out.

Wilson picked up on the second ring, and Jamie set up the meeting with all the efficiency of the best informant. She could hear his confusion, but promised him answers as she hung up. Her earlier comment to Mitch about spy movies came back, and before she could think about it she snapped the phone in half and tossed it in the trash.

She returned to the bar and checked her cash supply before ordering a shot of Jack and a soda and commandeering a table near the back. She took off the hat and glasses and leaned her head back against the wall, feeling the effects of the alcohol and exhaustion take over. She closed her eyes briefly only to snap them open again when someone sat down across from her. She stiffened for a second, ready to bolt, then recognized Chloe's worried frown.

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" she asked.

"Nope," Jamie took another long drink of her soda, hoping the caffeine would stimulate her enough to get through the rest of the day. Of course, they had no idea where they were even going to sleep, so Jamie wasn't banking on a terribly restful night. "How did your thing go?"

"How about a round of pool?" Jackson offered. "That way we can talk without looking too suspicious."

He ordered another round of drinks as they played, Jamie listening as they took turns interjecting pieces of the story. Jackson sunk the eight ball as Chloe finished the last piece of the tale.

"So Delavane just stonewalled you guys?" Jamie asked.

"Didn't even blink," Jackson said.

Jamie leaned over the table as the implications of their visit hit her. "Guys, he's going to make a phone call to men who get paid a lot of money to make other men disappear." Then, because she felt like being all inclusive with her paranoia, she added, "Other men and other women."

Like her, Jackson kept his head down to keep his voice from carrying. "How are we at a point where that doesn't even sound insane to me?"

"Okay guys," Chloe stopped them before they could get riled up, "let's not get carried away. How long until we talk to your friend?"

"Wilson? About an hour," Jamie said.

"So we stay hidden until then."

Jackson shook his head, "Look, even if he buys our story and we end up on the front page of the paper that doesn't solve our bigger problem here. We still need to find a cure for the animals."

Remembering Mitch's rant about needles, Jamie wasn't entirely sure how they were going to accomplish it. But Jackson had an answer. For the better part of the hour they had left, the three of them began eliminating areas based on the presence of Reiden products around the world. It was ten to two before Jamie called it quits and Jackson went outside to get Chloe.

Wilson was waiting next to a large garage door when they arrived. It was open and there was no one around, and Jamie's greeting was brief as they stepped inside.

"Who are these guys?" Wilson indicated the two people behind them.

"They're friends of mine," Jamie answered. "They're working on this with me. Listen, what we're going to tell you is -"

"Big," Wilson cut her off, "yeah, you said that. What is all this about Jamie?"

And so she told him. Wilson was one of the few who knew the story about Folsom and her crusade against Reiden and didn't think she was crazy. He'd even lent a hand with some research during college, but ultimately left her to her own devices as opportunities began to emerge for him. They parted on good terms, and Jamie considered him a friend.

"So this Mother Cell is Reiden Global's secret sauce?" Wilson summarized.

"It's used across product lines," Jamie confirmed, "from agricultural to consumer to commercial to pharmaceutical. If Reiden's name is on it, the Mother Cell is present."

Jackson brought the point home. "And now it's out in the wild, accelerating massive changes to the genetic makeup of animals across the globe."

Wilson turned around, halting their walk and huddling them in a back corner of the warehouse. "You know, a reporter on my desk was attacked by a bird this morning on her way to work. Is it possible that that was because…?"

"Yeah," Jamie nodded. "Yeah, it could be."

"And you have proof of this?" Wilson wanted to be sure and Jamie didn't blame him. A story like this could make or break a career. If they went public without solid evidence, Reiden would bury them all.

"We have the Mother Cell itself," Jamie told him.

Wilson looked taken aback. "Damn, Jamie."

"Not to mention reams of data, okay," Jackson added. "Internal Reiden documents. Experiments our own scientist has performed on the mutated animals."

As Jackson spoke, Wilson was looking less and less unsure. Jamie knew she had chosen right. "I told you this was big," she said.

"Can you help us?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah," Wilson answered firmly. "Yeah, I can help."

Jamie sighed in relief. "Oh, thank you so much, Wilson."

"FBI!" Jamie's heart stopped for a brief moment as the three letters echoed in the open space. They all turned, and out of the corner of her eye Jamie saw Chloe reach for her gun. The agent saw it, too. "Don't," he warned. "Lay your weapon on the ground." He was an older agent, gray and balding. He wore the standard suit of a federal agent, and his steady hand spoke of years of service.

Chloe complied with command slowly, then raised her hands. "My name is Chloe Tousignant. I'm DGSE operative."

"I know who you are, Miss Tousignant," the agent interrupted. "Maybe I wasn't clear on the exact pronunciation, but I do know that you're not DGSE. Not any more, anyway." Jamie's hopes of getting away were dashed, but she still jumped when the agent turned to her. "Jamie Campbell?"

"Yes," she hated that her voice trembled on the word, but the prospect that she and her friends were likely headed for a federal prison did not sit well.

"Ben Schaffer was a friend of mine," he said, his voice like steel.

Jamie felt another pang hit her as the gunshots echoed in her mind. "I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry," he snapped. "I loved him like a son. What does your sorry do for that, huh?"

"She has nothing to be sorry about," Jackson jumped to her aid. "She shot him in self-defense. He tried to kill us."

The agent shook his head in disbelief. "Why would he do that?"

This time it was Chloe who came to Jamie's defense. "Because your friend was working for a corporation called Reiden Global, and we'd uncovered some things Reiden would rather have remained secret."

Now he just looked angry. "Ben Schaffer was FBI special agent."

"He was dirty," Chloe countered.

"Excuse me?"

"Your friend was dirty," Chloe repeated. Jamie saw Jackson edge ever so slightly to his left. She didn't know what he was doing, but Chloe seemed to be keeping the agent's attention well enough that he was able to move a few feet without detection. "He was taking money from Reiden, using his position to cover up their mess."

The agent's anger morphed into something darker. "In over twenty years of law enforcement I've only discharged my weapon three times in the field. Imagine that. Three times." He took a breath and his lips curled in a sneer. "Right now, I just wanna blow your little head off."

There was a moment when Jamie was afraid he would do it. He raised his arm just a bit, and Jackson saw his chance. He charged at a stack of empty pallets, knocking them over onto the agent.

For a moment no one moved, all of them too stunned at the turn of events. Then Chloe reached down for her gun and shouted at them. "Run!"

They weaved through the warehouse, slipping through a narrow passage and turning toward an open door. Jamie was right behind Chloe when she darted out into the open, sprinting around her as she stopped and turned. Jackson was the last one out, ducking as a gunshot pinged off the scaffolding next to him. He'd managed to hit the mechanism that lowered the door, and Chloe took aim and fired off several shots at the switch on the wall to keep it from opening again.

Wilson was white as a sheet as they bolted for the safety of the alley. "My God, Jamie! You didn't tell me!"

"Sorry!"

They slowed to a brisk walk to avoid too many odd glances, but they didn't stop until they'd put several blocks between them and the warehouse. Wilson bent over to catch his breath as Chloe pulled out her phone.

"Who are you calling?" Jamie asked.

"Abe," she said. "We need to get out of the city as fast as possible."

"I need to get back to the office," Wilson said finally.

"I'll follow up with you later," Jamie told him. "Thank you again, Wilson."

"Yeah," he waved and disappeared around a corner without another word. Jamie guessed he was probably still in shock at the fact he'd been shot at not five minutes ago. Her own adrenaline was still pumping, and her hands shook as she fought to regain control of her heart rate.

Chloe shut her phone and nodded her head toward a side street. "They're on their way to Mitch's ex-wife's house. I have the address."

They flagged a taxi and piled in the back as Chloe gave the driver Audra's street name. Jamie was sitting on the driver's side, squished between Chloe and the door. She could feel her muscles cramping as her adrenaline wore off, and the nausea hit her hard as the driver took a turn a little too fast. She quickly sought the pressure point on her wrist that Mitch had showed her, and she pressed down hard right up until they stopped in front of a quaint two-story home. Mitch's rented car was sitting on the street, and as they exited the taxi and Chloe paid the driver Abe opened the front door and ushered them inside quickly.

Jamie sought out Mitch immediately, finding him at the dining room table swabbing at a cut on his hand. He looked up at her when she arrived, and she watched a myriad of emotions play across his face. He stood without a word and gathered her in his arms; Jamie couldn't tell who was more relieved.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked.

"Bird attack in the park," he said. "Audra and Clem were caught out in it." Jamie closed her eyes, for a moment fearing the worst. "They're okay," he told her. "Me, Abe and about a dozen firefighters managed to send them off. But not before three people died."

"I'm glad your daughter's okay," Jamie whispered.

"You're shaking," he said, pushing her back gently so he could look for any injuries.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Just...being shot at tends to send my adrenaline into overdrive."

His grip on her shoulders tightened as he panicked for a moment. "You were _shot at_? By who?"

She almost didn't want to meet his eyes. "The FBI."

"Jesus," he tugged her against him again. "I can't leave you alone for even a few hours, can I?" She chuckled into his shirt and held on for several long minutes, soaking in the warmth and safety he offered. It was weird, she mused silently, that someone she'd known for less than three months could suddenly become the most important person in her life. She felt the hum of rightness settle in her bones as his hand rubbed up and down her back, and she was reminded once again that she loved him.

It felt like the right moment, and Jamie steeled herself for the admission. She tried saying the words in her mind over and over again, hoping that eventually they would spill out onto her tongue. She had just sucked in a breath to speak when someone cleared their throat behind them. They both turned to find Abe hovering in the doorway.

"I am sorry to interrupt," he said, looking completely unapologetic and just a little amused, "but we need to discuss what to do next."

"I need to call Wilson," Jamie stepped back and smoothed her hair away from her face, hoping her own erratic thoughts weren't too obvious. "Is there a phone I can use?"

"Yeah," Mitch gestured toward the kitchen, seemingly oblivious to her inner panic. When Jamie looked a little hesitant, he added, "Audra and Clem are upstairs packing. It's probably best if we don't linger too long. It won't take the feds too long to find us here."

"Right." She moved to the phone and pulled out her small notebook of numbers as Mitch joined the others in the living room. She dialed her friend's number and tried to think about their next steps.

"Wilson," he answered as he always did.

"Wilson, it's Jamie."

"Jamie." He sounded not at all like the all-in reporter they'd left just a short while ago. Now he sounded scared.

"That's not a good tone," she tried to joke, but it fell flat.

"It's not," he agreed. "Listen, something's changed."

Jamie slammed the phone down a few minutes later and cursed under her breath. She could hear the others talking in the other room and took a few steadying breaths before joining them.

"More bad news," she began. "Wilson's out. His executive editor called Reiden to follow up."

"And let me guess," Mitch finished snidely. "Five minutes later, their lawyers were slapped with a cease and desist order from the Reiden legal team." He let out a humorless huff of laughter. "They are good at what they do." Two months ago Jamie would have jumped for joy that someone else was onboard with her crusade against Reiden. They had gotten away with it for so long, and for so long Jamie had carried the torch alone. Now she was just tired.

Discussion turned then to their next course of action. They couldn't talk to the press, and there was no way any of them would even see a fair trial if they turned themselves in. That left one option.

"The only people that can help us now are in this room," Jackson declared.

"Hey guys," Abe unmuted the television as reports of the bird attacks came flooding in. Mitch moved past her to the stairs, but Jamie couldn't tear her eyes from the screen.

"It's getting bigger," she said. "The animals are getting more aggressive."

From his seat by the window, Jackson came to a decision. "If it keeps progressing like this, it won't matter what we decide to do. Because by then it'll be too late." He looked up with a determination Jamie hadn't seen in him before. "We have to do something now."

"Fine, I agree," Abe said. "But what?"

"I don't know," Jackson stood up and began pacing. "We need to get out ahead of this thing. We need to finish the map and figure out where we can find an animal that hasn't been affected by Reiden."

"That will take time," Jamie shook her head. "We don't have that right now."

"We need to get somewhere safe," Chloe agreed.

"I know," Jackson stopped by the stairs and turned. "I'm open to suggestions."

Before any of them could say anything, Mitch came barreling down the stairs. "Jackson, do you remember when you showed me all those pictures of the walls at your dad's compound?"

Jamie recognized a Morgan epiphany when she saw one, and so did Jackson. "Yeah, of course."

Mitch came to rest in the middle of the living room as he turned to face the group. His hands were moving erratically as his brain worked faster than the rest of him could keep up with. "There was one picture in particular that had a list of traits - _Felidae, Carnivora_ , all the big cat taxonomies. Specifically, leopards."

"I remember," Abe's words were more of a question, one they were all thinking. What did it mean?

"There has to be a reason for that," Mitch answered. He turned to Jackson, "What if your dad was searching for a cure, too? What if that's our needle?"

"Leopards?" Chloe asked, but Jamie was already on the move. A laptop was open on the kitchen table - probably Audra's - and Jamie sat down to search the web.

Mitch was still on his revelatory rant. "Have we ruled it out yet?"

Jamie typed fast, clicking on the Wikipedia link when it popped up. "Okay, leopards are found in India, the Arabian Peninsula, the Himalayan foothills, sub-Saharan Africa…"

The others gathered around the table as Jackson pulled out their map. Abe was frowning as he leaned against the hardwood. "But we've ruled out most of those areas already," he pointed out.

Jackson unfolded the large paper and found the African continent. There were hundreds of circles all over the area signifying places where Reiden had been, but there were still some open spots left. "Yeah, but there are some areas in Africa where there's no reported Reiden activity."

Jamie was already typing again, looking for reports of leopard attacks in Africa. "Okay...last year, six people were killed in a small village near the Zambezi River. Zambia, Africa. 13 injured."

Jackson looked up from the map. "Zambia, nothing."

Jamie felt a swell of hope, but Mitch was ever the scientist. "Double check the ledger," he directed. "Make sure you didn't miss anything."

Chloe grabbed Leo Butler's ledger from Jamie's bag. "Double checking."

Jamie clicked on another report. "Six months ago, five separate leopard attacks in villages along a 20 mile stretch of the Luangwa Valley." On a whim, she searched one more time, unable to stop the smile that stretched her face as she read her findings. "And, Zambia's largest agricultural company is owned by one of Reiden's biggest critics."

Abe pushed away from the table. "That might explain why Reiden products aren't being used there."

"And?" Jackson looked at Chloe, who was flipping through the ledger.

"There's nothing," she shook her head after a few moments. "No mention of Zambia anywhere."

They all let out relieved chuckles. _Finally_ something was going right.

"I think we just found our needle," Mitch said. They all sat in silent celebration for a moment, soaking in their first real victory in what seemed like forever.

It was Abe who finally stated the obvious. "We cannot stay here much longer."

"Agreed," Jackson folded the map and handed it to Chloe. She tucked it in the ledger and slipped it back into Jamie's bag. "Alright, Mitch go get Audra and Clem. They need to get on the road to Maine as soon as possible."

"What about us?" Chloe asked.

"We need to get to Zambia."

"There's no way we can fly out of Boston Logan," Jamie pointed out. "Not with my picture plastered all over the news."

"So we drive south," Mitch said. "We get as far from Boston as we can and figure it out."

"We can fly into Lusaka," Abe said. "We just need to find an airport that Jamie can get through."

"So let's go." Jamie grabbed her bag and made a beeline for the door with the others as Mitch got Audra and Clem loaded into their car. Jackson started the car as Abe jumped into the passenger seat. Jamie scooted to the middle seat as Mitch squeezed into the back with her and Chloe, and Jackson took off down the residential street.

"Okay, now we just need to get out of the city without getting stopped by any police," Jackson said.

"I knew this would come in handy," Abe reached into his bag and pulled out a small police radio scanner.

"When did you buy that?" Chloe asked.

"When I got the phones," Abe answered. He flipped through the frequencies, stopping when he heard chatter.

" _Five suspects in the house, two women and three men_." It crackled for a moment, then came back in. "... _we may have innocents. A mother and a little girl, so be careful._ "

"Guys," Jamie swallowed thickly, "I think they're talking about us."

"Looks like we got out of there just in time," Chloe said, slouching a little in her seat at two cop cars zipped past them. Jamie turned her head and watched as they turned into Audra's neighborhood.

"Jesus," she breathed. She knew being the subject of a manhunt would be dangerous, but that had been a little too close. She felt Mitch take her hand, squeezing it tightly as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat.

"I don't want to be a buzzkill," Mitch said once they were out on a main road, "but it's about 7,000 miles to Zambia. It's gonna take more than a police scanner and dirt roads to get us there."

"You're right," Abe turned his head to address the scientist. "Don't be a buzzkill. One thing at a time."

From outside, an awful noise like a broken alarm pierced the air. Chloe rolled down her window and leaned out.

"What is that?" Jamie raised her head and winced as the noise grew louder.

"We've been hearing it all day," Mitch said. "Different species of birds all making the exact same noise." Chloe rolled up the window as a murder of crows coalesced above their heads.

Abe turned around in his seat enough so he could see Jamie and Chloe. "Mitch thinks the birds are developing a common tongue."

Chloe looked over at Mitch. "You think the eagles can talk to the finches -"

"- can talk to the skua, can talk to the black-headed grosbeak," Mitch finished. "There are maybe 300 billion birds in the world. Imagine if they could all talk to each other."

The implications were huge, and Jamie's head swam with this new information. "If that's true, they could send a message around the world and back." And, she thought, if they managed to extend that communication to other species, there was no telling how devastating that could be.

From the look on Mitch's face, Jamie guessed that had already crossed his mind. "Let's just figure out a way to get to Zambia. Quick."

"Amen," Jamie murmured.

"Hey," he brushed her wrist with his thumb, "you alright?"

"Just tired," she admitted. Truthfully, she was a hair's breadth away from losing it, but she managed to send him a convincing enough smile that he took her words at face value.

"Then get some rest," he offered. "Come here." He let her hand go and raised his arm as he angled his body against the door to give her room. She leaned against him gratefully, laying her ear against his chest as his arm settled around her. She vaguely heard him conversing quietly with Chloe and even heard her name, but she was too tired to pay attention. The steady rise and fall of Mitch's chest as he breathed combined with the heat from his body to send her into a restful sleep.


	10. Emotional Contagion - Boiling Point

So the timeline here is a little fudged. The beginning of this episode (the night time break out at the zoo) was meant to take place approximately 20 hours ahead of the time cut, but it would take them over 20 hours to get from Boston (where the opening says they are) to drive to Clearwater, FL. Seriously, writers. It doesn't take a genius to Google this stuff. Also, why the hell would they stop anywhere near Boston for gas and food when every officer from the city level to the federal is looking for Jamie and Chloe? Since it's my AU (and I apparently have greater access to basic information like driving distance from Boston to Clearwater?) I am fixing the mistakes.

* * *

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 10: Emotional Contagion - Boiling Point

 _The way to Africa goes through Florida and an old acquaintance of Jackson's. Of course, he wants something in return and none of the team is happy about it. Mitch struggles to balance his professional convictions with their need to leave the country. A Jamie/Mitch rewrite_

* * *

They were about two hours outside the Boston city limits when Jackson announced they needed gas. Mitch looked down at Jamie sleeping against him and frowned. She looked completely wiped and she'd only been napping for a short time. Still, he thought, she might like to grab a bite to eat before they got on the road to…well, none of them knew exactly where they were going. They just knew that they needed to get out of Boston and find a way to get to Zambia without Chloe and Jamie getting arrested at an airport.

They ended up in a small town at a four pump station with a burger shack attached to the store. There were picnic tables outside, and the only security cameras Abe could see were the ones on the pumps themselves. Jackson pulled up to the diner to let them out as Mitch nudged Jamie awake.

"Hmm?" she mumbled groggily and sat up, pushing her hair back from her face as she blinked blearily.

"We're getting gas and food," he told her. "You hungry?"

"Yeah," she turned her head back and forth to stretch her neck out. He'd tried to make her as comfortable as possible, but there was very little room with three of them crammed into the backseat.

Abe volunteered to pump the gas and check the tires if Jackson and Chloe got them all food. Their cash stores were running dangerously low, and none of them knew how much longer they would need to worry about gas. They agreed to fill up here and keep their food purchases small where possible until they could find another money source. Chloe had already contacted a friend at the DGSE, though she still had no idea if he could help them or not.

Mitch and Jamie camped at a picnic table as the other two went inside to place their order. They emerged a few minutes later but stayed near the door talking in low tones; Mitch wondered if they were planning their next move. Jamie was still a little out of it, and Mitch's frown deepened at the dark circles under eyes. She needed a good night's sleep in a real bed, but it looked like none of them were getting that any time soon.

Mitch pulled out his tablet and perused a few local news sites, wincing as he stumbled on two large pictures of Jamie and Chloe above the words "Manhunt Underway for Suspects in Death of FBI Agent." He saw Jamie tense next to him, and unconsciously he reached out to lay a hand on her back. He knew Ben Schaffer's death still plagued her, and being the subject of a manhunt was likely not doing anything good for her stress levels. He clicked away from the site, settling on perusing the growing reports that were creeping up all over the country.

"Do we have a plan?" Jamie asked after a few minutes.

"That depends on what you call a plan," Mitch quipped. "As of now, I think it's something along the lines of 'get out of Boston, then figure out how to get to Zambia.'"

Jamie looked at him with a hint of a wry smile. "That's sort of vague."

"Not sort of," Mitch shot back. "And that's not even the whole of our dilemma. I've been thinking about how the hell we're even going to create the cure when and if we do find the leopards." He tapped on his screen and typed in a search. "We're going to need an electroporator."

"Electro-what?"

"Electroporator," he repeated as he tapped a link. "We're gonna need one, once we find the leopard, to combine its stem cells with the Mother Cell."

"Wait," she leaned in closer to inspect the image that had popped up on his screen as Jackson and Chloe came over with two paper bags. "Jackson, we saw one of these. In Mobile, in the optometrist's office."

"Yeah," Jackson confirmed. "Evan Lee Hartley thought it would help cure him."

Mitch knew immediately why the crazed man had sought the machine. "Makes sense. Electroporators are used to introduce new coding DNA."

Jamie must have finally woken up, because her dry humor was back. "So we're probably not going to find one in the wilds of Africa."

"No," Mitch agreed. He moved to stand up, closing his tablet cover as Jackson gathered their food.

"So we'll have to take one with us," the younger man said.

"And it's not like we can just swing by a convenience store and pick one up," Mitch continued as they made their way to the car. "It's a highly specialized piece of equipment."

"Where to do we find one?" Chloe asked.

Mitch squinted against the sun emerging from behind the clouds and thought about her question. "Genetics labs," he said. "Certain hospitals." Abe had finished airing up the spare tire and was standing at the open driver's side door as they arrived. "So we can add that to our list of impossible stuff to do." He couldn't help it - blunt pragmatism had always been his modus operandi. Sugar coating things simply wasn't in his nature.

"Well, no one said saving the world is gonna be easy." And as always, Jamie was there to keep that little spark of hope alive. Mitch followed her around to the opposite side of the car, bypassing her to lean against the open passenger door.

"Hey guys," Abe reached in and turned the radio up. "Listen to this."

" _The CDC is, however, looking into the matter_ ," a woman was saying. " _We've heard enough reports about aberrant animal behavior that we're considering the possibility of a virus._ "

Mitch scoffed and barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "It's not a virus," he insisted. The others already knew that but the scientist in him couldn't let the point stand uncontested, even if the speaker couldn't hear him.

" _What can the people at home do?_ " the newscaster asked.

" _If you notice any odd behavior in your pet, see your local veterinarian_."

"Well, that was helpful," Abe drawled.

"So, I have a question," Mitch leaned back and crossed his arms. No one else seemed to want to ask it, so he would. "If we keep driving south through Florida, eventually we're gonna run out of terra firma."

"That's it," Jackson perked up. "Florida."

"Florida?" Chloe sounded just as confused as Mitch felt.

"Let's go to Clearwater," Jackson explained unhelpfully.

"Why?" Mitch asked. "I mean, never in the course of human events has Clearwater, Florida ever been the solution to anything."

"Well, today it is," Jackson was adamant. "In Clearwater, there is a way to get back to Africa."

Jamie looked at Mitch for help, but he had no idea what Jackson was on about. She leaned into the car to address Jackson directly. "Well, what's in Clearwater?"

"Oh no," Abe finally groaned. "You're thinking of Ray, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Jackson affirmed.

Abe shook his head, meeting Jackson's muted excitement with a firm refusal. "No, not that. Not Ray."

Jamie had finally had enough of their ambiguity. "Who is Ray?" she snapped.

"He's a nightmare," Abe sounded resigned and, judging by the satisfied smirk on Jackson's face, Mitch guessed it didn't matter how bad this Ray was. If he could get them to Africa, it was really their only option.

"Okay," Chloe sensed the tension between the two friends and intervened. "Look, we might as well start driving that direction. We can meet this Ray and see if he can help us. In the meantime, I'll keep pressing my contacts in Paris and try to get us a plane out of the country."

It was a plan of sorts, and it was more than they had five minutes ago so they all piled into the car for the long drive to Florida. Abe drove while Jackson divvied up the food from the backseat. They ate in relative silence, the drone of the news station buzzing just shy of discernible. Abe pointed them south as Mitch rummaged through his bag for his charging cable. He plugged his tablet in and began perusing all of the news channels looking for any indication that the CDC or any other agency had a clue what was happening. Every site he visited mentioned some sort of virus or bacterial infection, and Mitch grew more irritated with each consecutive page.

"Anything interesting?" Jamie's voice over his shoulder startled him, though thankfully he managed to repress the urge to jump in his seat.

"Not really," he sighed. "No one seems to have a clue what's going on."

"Except us," she finished. "It's not surprising, though. If Wilson's editor was silenced for a simple inquiry, I can imagine what Reiden's done to anyone actively looking into this."

For a moment she sounded like that headstrong reporter that had tracked him down in the lion enclosure and peppered him with questions regarding odd animal behavior. She had been so sure then, so driven. The past months had tossed her about pretty handily, and her fire had been dimmed with each subsequent setback. But here she was, once again railing against Reiden with an assuredness that bordered on obsessive. Her resilience astounded him.

"You should get some more rest," he told her.

"I'm alright," she told him, but the yawn that punctuated her declaration betrayed her. "Okay," she relented under his pointed stare. "We all need rest. Abe, you okay for a while?"

"Yes," the man kept his eyes on the road. "I will be fine for some time. Mitch is right; you should rest."

"Here," Mitch reached into his bag and pulled out his flannel shirt. He'd taken it off at the park in a rush as the fire trucks amassed, and it had been hastily stuffed in his bag on their way out of Audra's. He handed it back to Jamie to use as a pillow or a blanket. Jackson was already passed out against the door, Chloe leaning against his arm as she slept.

"Thanks," Jamie traded his shirt for her phone. "Can you charge this?"

"Sure," he tucked it into his bag where his tablet normally sat so he would remember later. He heard her shuffling around behind him, adjusting to find a comfortable position in the cramped space. It took a few moments, but finally there was nothing but silence from the backseat. Mitch glanced in the sideview mirror, angling his head just enough to make out Jamie's profile against the window. Out of the corner of his eye Mitch thought he saw Abe smirking, but when he turned his head the other man's face was devoid of emotion.

After a few more minutes of surfing the web, Mitch gave up on learning anything helpful. He shut off his tablet and let it charge, turning his attention to the radio. "What kind of music do you listen to, Abe?"

"Anything is fine," the other man said. "Just keep it low."

Mitch found a classic rock station that seemed to play more music than commercials, and he let himself drift off into a light doze to the strains of Led Zeppelin.

It was almost dark when they stopped again, pulling into another small town gas station to fill up. Mitch rubbed his eyes as he checked the time, surprised to find almost four hours had passed. Abe glanced over at him hopefully.

"How are you on cash?"

Mitch dug into his bag, taking a moment to trade out his tablet for Jamie's phone. He plugged it in and made sure it was charging before counting what little money remained in his bag.

"About fifty," he said. "Should be enough to fill the tank." He handed it to Abe before twisting in his seat to pop his back. His muscles protested the confined space, but he stretched as much as he could. Jamie hadn't stirred, which spoke more about her exhaustion than anything. Chloe and Jackson were still out as well, which meant Mitch was probably next on the driver's list. He got out and walked a bit to relieve the ache in his legs and back, and when Abe finished pumping the gas they switched seats.

"How far is it to Clearwater?" Abe asked.

"Uh, from Boston it's probably 1200 miles. I'm guessing we're not even a third of the way there, yet." It took a moment, but Mitch finally figured out the on board navigation system. He'd been off on his estimate by only a little bit, and the map showed they had traveled a little under 400 miles from Boston. "Looks like we'll be in Clearwater before noon tomorrow if we drive straight through."

Abe settled into the passenger seat and passed Mitch a water from the twelve-pack he'd bought. "Well, let's get going then."

They traded off drivers three more times in the next fifteen hours, and it was Chloe who pulled them to a stop in front of the Sun n' Sands Motel just after eleven. Mitch had managed a few hours of sleep in the back, but he was still stiff and cranky when they all piled out into the thick, humid air.

"Wonderful," he grumbled as they surveyed the two story, green building. All of the doors were weather-beaten and faded by the sun, and through the windows Mitch could see the thick woolen curtains that seemed to be a staple of every roadside motel. "I'm guessing room service is out of the question."

Jamie came up beside him shielding her eyes against the midday sun. "Maybe it's cleaner on the inside."

He didn't even grace her statement with a response, instead choosing to shoot her a withering glare. She just smiled back and patted his arm sympathetically. Chloe came around the car and handed Jamie a wad of cash.

"Just get one room," she said.

"Uh," Jamie took the money but didn't move. "Shouldn't someone else book the room? Someone who isn't wanted for murder?"

"You're the only one of us with a working alias right now," Chloe countered. "The FBI will likely be looking for all of us soon. They will not be looking for Nancy Armstrong."

Jamie accepted the explanation and moved in the direction of the office - a small, windowed room tacked on the end of the row of rooms. The others milled around the car and discussed just how they would go about tracking down Ray.

"He will be in whatever place allows him to cause the most chaos," Abe pointed out.

"He sounds like a charmer," Mitch leaned back against the bumper. "Are we sure we want to get involved with this guy?"

"Yes," Jackson said just as Abe said no, and he glared at his friend. "Ray might be a bit unconventional, but he's our man for getting to Africa under the radar. We don't have a lot of time and our options are limited."

Abe grumbled but didn't reply. Mitch was beginning to feel a twinge of unease in his gut. He usually ignored it - preferring hard facts and logical reasoning - but for some reason he couldn't push it aside like he usually could.

"We got two adjoining rooms," Jamie came back with two keys - real ones, not the magnetic cards of modern hotels. They were each attached by a single ring to large plastic numbers, five and six. She handed Chloe one of the keys and the leftover money.

"How?" Chloe looked down at the change and the key incredulously.

Jamie just shrugged. "It's not tourist season," she said.

Mitch rubbed the back of his neck where sweat had soaked through his collar. "I wonder why." He remembered the summers of his high school years and how the temperatures in the southeastern part of the US grew to sweltering conditions. The beach had been just a few hours' drive, but Mitch had very few friends to go with. Most of the time he'd ended up spending his summers working to save enough money for college and helping his mom prep for her upcoming school year.

They unloaded their bags as Jamie opened the door to room five, and Mitch prepared himself for a very dismal scene. He was not disappointed.

"I think my college dorm was bigger than this," he remarked. The square room was maybe ten feet on each side, with tiny vanity on the back wall and a door that no doubt led to an equally tiny bathroom. The adjoining door was closed, but Mitch unlocked it as he heard Abe speaking in the next room. Chloe opened the door and peeked in.

"Cozy," she joked. "This one's the same. But at least we've got four beds." Mitch glanced at Jamie out of the corner of his eye, suddenly very self-conscious. Chloe had no doubt assumed - as Mitch had - that he and Jamie would be sharing a bed like they had at Chloe's apartment. Of course, he hadn't actually discussed it with Jamie, and felt like an ass.

Hoping to divert the topic until he could speak with her in private, Mitch jumped to their entire reason for being in Clearwater in the first place. "Any idea how to find this Ray guy?"

Chloe shook her head. "I was actually hoping Jamie might have some ideas."

"Me?" Jamie reeled back slightly.

"Yes," Chloe nodded briskly. "Jackson said you tracked down Evan Lee Hartley in a matter of hours. A man like Ray should be no problem at all."

"Okay," Jamie unzipped her bag and pulled her computer from its sleeve. "So who's this friend of yours?"

"He's not our friend," Abe insisted as he and Jackson came from the next room.

"He's an ex-Marine," Jackson cut him off. "An animal rights activist, and he spends a lot of time in Africa interfering with poachers. That's how Abe and I met him."

They spent the next few minutes offering up a few suggestions on where he might be, but none of the numbers Jamie found led to Ray. After almost half an hour of surfing, Jamie stilled in her seat. At first Mitch thought something had popped up on her screen to elicit the reaction, but closer inspection told him otherwise. She had a look on her face he'd seen only a few times, often followed by one of her unorthodox but brilliant ideas.

"We're looking at this wrong," she shook her head and began typing faster than any of them could keep up with. A few pages flashed on her screen as she clicked on links and paged back at nearly inhuman speed. Mitch took a moment to appreciate the sight of Jamie in rare form, doing what she was trained to do. She gathered information, sorting through what was relevant and discarding what wasn't, creeping ever closer to her target. Finally she clicked one final link and sat back triumphantly. "Found him."

"Where?" Jackson leaned in to peer over her shoulder.

"Remember when I was looking for Hartley?" Jackson nodded, but Jamie explained anyway for the others. "I made him into a villain of sorts, and the web found him for me. Well, with everything you and Abe were saying about Ray I guessed he probably didn't need me creating enemies for him - he probably has enough on his own. And I was right." Mitch couldn't help but smile at the pride in her voice. It was nice to hear her spirits lifting, even if it was a small thing in the grand scheme.

" _Eco-Terrorists Terrorize Local Fisherman_ ," Jackson read aloud. "Oh yeah, this has Ray all over it." He stood up and turned to Abe. "Looks like we're headed to the docks."

"I'll go with you," Chloe insisted. Neither Abe nor Jackson had any protests, and they all promised to call Mitch or Jamie if and when they found Ray. They were talking and planning even as they walked out, and as the door closed behind them it left a silence in the room that was almost deafening. Jamie closed her laptop and stood, stretching as a yawn escaped.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," she announced, moving to her bag to grab a cleaner set of clothes.

Mitch suddenly felt the grime of the last few days on his body and nodded. "I think I'll join you." The words were out before he had a chance to think about them, and both of them froze at the implication. Mortified horror gripped him and he began to stumble through an apologetic explanation, but Jamie just laughed. She padded over to him and stopped his rambling with a kiss.

It was extremely effective.

When the kiss ended Mitch opened his eyes, surprised and wondering when he'd closed them. Jamie stayed close, laying her palms flat on his chest and looking up at him through fluttering lashes. "I know what you meant," she let him off the hook. "But," she added after a few seconds, "when all of this is over, and the world is back to normal and I don't have a federal warrant out for my arrest…" She raised her chin to look at him squarely, and he saw even in the dim yellow light of the hotel lamps how the black of her pupils seemed to swallow the blue of her eyes. "We will definitely revisit that topic."

She kissed him once more and left him standing in the center of the room as she moved to the small bathroom. The door clicked shut behind her, and Mitch finally figured out how to move again. Abe had left the adjoining door opened, so Mitch took advantage of the second bathroom to take a shower of his own.

When he emerged he felt cleaner, though he didn't feel as rejuvenated as he usually did after showering. He blamed it on exhaustion and decided to catch a nap before the others called or returned. Jamie, it seemed, had beat him to it. She was curled up on top of the covers on the bed nearest the bathroom, her hair still wet from her shower. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his eyes darting between the expanse of bed next to her or the empty one nearest the door. After a few seconds of silent deliberation, Jamie's voice startled him.

"Mitch." It held a note of warning, and he smiled as he remembered the last time he'd heard that tone.

"I know," he chuckled quietly, "stop thinking so much." He turned off the lamp and discarded his damp towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor as he settled onto his side next to her. She maneuvered enough to get the top blanket over them, and as Mitch's head hit the pillow she slotted herself against his body. He wrapped an arm over her to tug her to a more comfortable position, and she hummed irritably. Finally he gave up and rolled to his back, pulling her to lay halfway on top of him. She was slight enough that her weight wasn't oppressive, and he felt her breathing deepen and even out in a matter of seconds.

Hushed voices woke him some time later, and as he came to he identified Abe's first. The others had obviously returned and were discussing something in the other room. Someone had pulled the adjoining door to but hadn't closed it completely, allowing only a soft murmur through. Mitch laid in bed for a moment more, soaking in the feeling of Jamie in his arms. He hadn't been able to properly appreciate it the last time because of his early morning meeting, and the only other time he'd held her like this had been just after Ben Schaffer's death. He'd been so focused on making sure she was alright that he hadn't really paid attention to the way she fit so naturally against him. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder, and he could smell the bland floral fragrance of the hotel shampoo whenever he breathed in deeply. One of her hands was lying limply against his chest, and without thinking he brought his free hand up to grasp it.

It was too dark to make out her face, but Mitch had already memorized every detail anyway. It still baffled him that he'd only known her a few months; sometimes it felt as though she'd always been a part of his life. She hadn't of course - he had the proof of that in Clementine. In a rare moment of fancy, Mitch wondered what his life might have been like had he met her first. Before Audra, before Allison. He probably would have ruined her. His father had done quite a number on his psyche, and it had taken him a lot of years and half a world of space to get to a place where he was at peace with it.

And that's when Jamie had come into his life. She'd appeared so suddenly - all business, so focused on her goals and completely unaware of the effect she'd had on him from day one. He let his mind wander back to that morning at the zoo, crouched over a pile of lion feces and wondering if it was a sign of how the rest of his day would go. Then she'd called his name and his entire world had tilted on its axis. The carefully constructed walls he'd built up around himself had been dismantled at the utterance of her name. He still had no idea what had possessed him to call her up and invite her to lunch, but looking back he was glad he had. Who knows where they would be if he hadn't? Would she even be here with them now? Gaspard had been rather adamant about Mitch's recruitment in that bar so many months ago, but Mitch had been just as adamant about not leaving Jamie behind.

"You're thinking again, Professor." Jamie shifted against him, raising her head to stare at him with a sleepy smile.

"Busted," he confessed. "The others are back."

She raised her head and paused, and when Chloe's soft alto floated through the crack in the door she sagged against him. "I guess that means we have to get up."

"Probably." He made no move to leave the warm nest of blankets. She didn't either. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah," she finally pushed up to a sitting position and ran her fingers through her hair to comb out any large tangles. "Ugh." No doubt that was meant as some comment on the state of her appearance, but Mitch thought she looked beautiful. He told her so. "Thanks," she smiled at the sudden compliment. "But I'm pretty sure your opinion is biased."

"Well sure," he returned just as cheekily. "But mine's the only opinion that matters."

"Is that so?" her smile morphed into a playful smirk. "And why is that?" She was baiting him and he knew it. She wanted him to take that first step in defining their relationship, to put a name to it. If it had been any other woman, Mitch would have shut her down and refused to play her game. But Jamie wasn't any other woman.

He was pretty sure he was in love with her. And, if he was reading the signs correctly, she was more than a little infatuated with him as well. Despite that, he couldn't force the words past his lips. It didn't matter how many times he reminded himself that Jamie and Allison were as different as night and day, or that he and Audra had only married because of some chivalrous notion that the mother of his child should also be his wife. Jamie wasn't any other woman, and she certainly wasn't either of the two who had wrecked his heart and shoved him into this cynical shell. Still, he couldn't say it.

"You guys up?" Jackson interrupted their non-conversation with a light knock on the door. Mitch saw Jamie's face fall, but only for a second before she schooled her features. He didn't think she knew he'd seen it, and she stood up with a languid stretch.

"Yeah, gimme just a sec." She disappeared into the bathroom without looking back. Mitch cursed inwardly and resolved to talk to her the next time they were alone. She deserved that, at least, and he could get past his aversion to confronting his emotions if it meant he never had to see that disappointment on her face again.

"Everything okay?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah," Mitch stood and made a half-hearted attempt at making the bed. Chloe and Abe came up behind Jackson, and when Jamie came back out all of them were perched in various places around the room discussing what had happened with Ray.

"He wants us to what?" Mitch had been listening quietly as Jackson explained how they'd found Ray Endicott, but he balked at the word "liberate."

"He's crazy," Abe added, but Jackson just glared.

"He's not crazy." Then, a little less convincingly, "He's just not uncrazy."

Chloe decided to intervene before the two friends could erupt into a full-blown argument. "His group calls themselves the Free Animal Rights Militia."

"F-A-R-M," Mitch drawled. "That's...clever." He grabbed one of the bottles of water from the 12 pack they'd bought in Massachusetts. "I've dealt with these kind of people before. They don't know the first thing about animal welfare." His time spent at various zoos had exposed him to all sorts of animal rights protesters and activists. While most of them had their hearts in the right place, they had no clue about what conservation and animal protection actually entailed.

"Not to mention some of us are already wanted by the police," Jamie put in. "Maybe committing another crime doesn't help our case." Mitch raised his hand in acknowledgement of another point against this foolish endeavor.

"Well I agree," Jackson said, "but we gotta get out of here and we gotta get out of here fast." No one seemed convinced, and Jackson sighed. "I admit, okay? Ray...Ray can be a bit of a loose cannon." At Abe's pointed stare he shrugged. "Maybe more than a bit. But everything he has ever done has been for the animals."

"Look," Abe pushed away from the door, "I know desperate times require desperate measures, but this isn't desperate. It's reckless."

The debate went on and on, with Jackson and Chloe on one side and Abe, Jamie and Mitch on the other. Ultimately, it was the breaking news on the television that decided things for them. Mitch kept his expression neutral as he looked at his picture next to those of his friends in connection with Ben Schaffer's death. Jamie was across the room, but a brief glance revealed all he needed to know about her state of mind. The guilt was written on her face, and he knew what they had to do.

"Alright," he reached down and turned the set off. "Let's go." They packed all of their things back into the car, unsure if they would be able to return to the hotel before they flew out of the country. Jamie left the keys on the nightstand with a note apologizing for not returning them to the front desk. Mitch watched her dig into her pocket for whatever cash she had left to leave for the housekeeping service, marveling once again at the depth of compassion she held in her heart.

They squeezed in the back with Chloe as Jackson rocketed off toward wherever Ray and his friends were holed up. Mitch felt sick to his stomach at the thought of helping these people. Fanatics like Ray and the rest of the members of FARM typically held an extremely narrow - and often incorrect - view of zoos and animal preserves. In his experience, they were ignorant and militant - a combination that often led to terrible things. It went against everything he believed in regarding animal conservation and welfare, yet here he was about to help them break into a zoo and remove animals who knew no other life than the one they lived. The odds of them surviving in the African wilds were almost nil, but Mitch knew he couldn't say it. They needed Ray and his plane to get out of the country.

"You alright?" Jamie kept her voice low as Jackson and Abe continued their good-natured argument about which of them had first befriended Ray Endicott.

Mitch guessed she'd seen the pinched look on his face, and he forced himself to relax. "Yeah," he nodded. "I'm just not looking forward to dealing with the level of ignorance these people are likely to display."

"I guess in the zoo world, these guys would be like your nemesis." She was trying to lift his spirits with a joke, but she had spoken truth.

"Yeah," he nodded. "A few years back, we rescued a small herd of elephants from Swaziland. They have a managed population there, and their herd was getting too big, encroaching on the habitats of other animals, because of a major drought. The local government wanted to cull the herd, but we said we'd take a few of them instead." Mitch shook his head as he remembered the uproar that announcement had caused. "So called animal activists protested almost daily, tried to sneak into the zoo and disrupt operations, stuff like that."

"Wow. Anyone get hurt?"

"No," Mitch shook his head. "They're persistent, but mostly harmless. But people like Ray, like FARM? They're the really dangerous ones."

Jamie's face morphed from curious to apprehensive. "Dangerous?"

"They're fanatics, and from what Abe and Jackson have said they're militant. Add to that the unpredictability that comes with transporting zoo animals - and ones that don't know us to boot - let's just say I'm not looking forward to the next 24 hours."

"If we had another option -"

"No, I get why we have to do this," Mitch stopped her before she could somehow find a way to add more blame onto her already overburdened shoulders. "I'm just warning you that I may not be my normal charming self for a day or so."

She chuckled and laid her head back against the seat. "Fair enough."

Mitch closed his eyes and didn't open them until Jackson pulled up to an old rundown warehouse at the end of a long road. He was already picturing the para-military scene he was likely walking into as he followed Abe toward a side door. Jackson knocked loudly, banging his fist against the metal three times in quick succession. A rusty bolt slid back and the door cracked open. A man peeked through, his face a stony mask until he saw Jackson and Abe on the other side.

"Boys!" he lit up and opened the door wider to let them in. "Glad you could make it. The gang's through here." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder as Mitch followed his friends into the dimly lit warehouse. Empty shelves and spare sheets of metal had been hastily constructed as some sort of foyer, with only a small gap serving as the entry into the main area. Jackson took the lead and made the introductions.

"Ray Endicott, these are the other two members of our team, Jamie Campbell and Mitch Morgan."

Jamie took Ray's proffered hand quickly but firmly. When the man turned to him, Mitch stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded quickly. Ray seemed to sense his hostility, but it didn't faze him. Instead, he turned back to Jamie with a charming smile.

"Jackson, you've been holding out on me, man. You didn't tell me you were working with two gorgeous women." There was a beat of silence as Ray waited for his compliment to be acknowledged. When no one spoke up, Mitch decided he should be the one to do it.

Jackson cut him off before he could potentially damage whatever deal they had struck. "Ray, we're here. We'll help you, as long as you can promise me that you'll get us to Africa."

Ray grinned. "Oh, I'll get you to Africa, buddy boy. Got the cargo plane fueled up and ready to go. All we have to do is go liberate the animals." Mitch sneered at Ray's words but kept silent.

"There is something else," Abe added. "We will need to get to the pathology lab and get their electroporator."

Ray seemed as confused by the request as he was by the word. "What for?"

"It doesn't matter what it's for," Mitch finally snapped. "We just need it."

"Okay," Ray held up his hands and nodded toward the opening. "We're putting the final touches on the plans now. Come on."

They made their way to a larger open area, lit by crudely erected floodlights. A low table sat in the center with what appeared to be a jumbo sized map of the Clearwater Zoo. Two others were hovered over the it speaking in low tones as they approached. The woman was stern looking with a tight bun and angled features. Her hawk-like eyes surveyed the newcomers silently. Mitch got the feeling she was as against their involvement as he was.

The third member of the FARM team was a young man with dark skin and bright eyes. He was less apprehensive about Ray's hired help, but his enthusiasm for their upcoming task was immediately dampened upon their arrival.

Ray ignored the obvious tension in the room and made introductions like they were meeting for dinner rather than a covert operation. "Cody, Anissa, these are my old pals from Africa, Abe and Jackson. They've brought us some manpower for tonight's liberation."

Cody nodded at them, but Anissa wasn't so welcoming. "As long as they do what they're told, fine."

Mitch opened his mouth to fire back, but Jamie nudged him sharply in the ribs and he clamped his mouth shut. Ray went on like he hadn't noticed. "We found what works best for us is a two-pronged assault, so four of us are gonna go in here, four of us in here." He indicated two points on the map that corresponded with what Mitch knew were probably larger loading areas. The hoofstock barns usually had their own loading ramps and chutes, with the smaller animals being transported from the hospital loading area to their exhibits. One team was set to breach at the zebra barn, the other near the hospital. Mitch guessed he was in that team.

Anissa sounded almost boastful when she added, "Toss in a couple of flashbangs and the rent-a-cops won't know what hit 'em."

"Flashbangs?" It was Jamie who couldn't contain her surprise. "Seriously?"

Mitch decided the moratorium on keeping quiet was off. "The term 'gung ho' comes from the Chinese meaning 'work together,' but I find it can also mean 'excitable morons groping for a cause.'"

To his surprise, it was Cody who rounded on him. "You kidding me, man?"

"My friend," Abe warned, "I wouldn't, if I was you." There was a moment of tense silence as Mitch stared down at the man, almost daring him to continue. He weighed his options and decided it wasn't worth it.

Cody had backed down, but Anissa had had enough. "Who are these guys again, Ray?

"These are some old chums of mine," Ray said evenly, "who are presently of the mind that the animals are uniting against us. Which we deserve, by the way."

"Good for them," Anissa was sounding more and more disconnected from reality. "I mean, we have been eating them and keeping them in cages since the dawn of time."

Mitch couldn't let that crazy stand. He took a breath to rebuke her fanatical viewpoint, but Jackson spoke first. "Alright, how about we just focus on what it is we're trying to do here."

Ray nodded sharply. "Okay, once we're in one of your people can go fetch the, uh, velociraptor thing from the path-lab."

"Electroporator," Mitch corrected tersely.

"Sure. That." Ray matched his tone. "Rest of us are gonna free the animals, load them into the truck. We're in and out in under thirty minutes."

"What if we try a different approach?" Jackson asked.

Mitch had reached the end of his patience with these lunatics. "Yeah, like the one where we don't break into the zoo to free the animals."

"What, do you think this is funny?" Cody had apparently overcome whatever hesitation he'd had at their initial confrontation.

Mitch rose the occasion and let go of his own inhibitions. "Oh, there's nothing funnier than adrenaline junkies trying to mask their thrill-seeking in altruism."

Anissa was still atop her high horse, preaching her nonsense to the masses. "Zoos are an idea whose time has come and gone."

Her blind ignorance was starting to piss him off, and Mitch added a bit of bite to his next words. "Tell that to the dozens of species who have benefited from captive breeding programs."

"Alright, relax," Ray stepped between them. "Relax." He glanced sharply at Anissa and she backed off with a sour look. "Anissa did a couple of tours in Afghanistan," he explained calmly. "Took some mortar fire. Unfortunately the doctors couldn't save her sense of humor."

Chloe joined Ray in refocusing the group. "Jackson, you were saying?"

"I was thinking that maybe we try a more stealthy approach," Jackson said. "One where we get in and out without security even knowing we're there."

Ray stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. "And how do you propose that?"

Jackson smiled knowingly. "We have a secret weapon." Mitch didn't like the sound of that at all, but if it meant getting one over on these losers then he was willing to roll with it.

"Oh, you do?"

"We do," Jackson turned to Mitch and pointed. "Him."

Anissa's disgust was plain. "You've got be kidding me."

Mitch recovered from the surprise quickly. "Well as it turns out Miss Jarhead, I know a thing or two about zoos." And then, because he had no idea how he was going to do it alone, he turned to Jamie. "And Jamie knows a thing or two about getting information from people." She looked up for a moment but schooled her features quickly. Before anyone could argue or offer a counterpoint, Mitch went on. "Give us ten minutes."

"Ten -"

"Alright," Ray interrupted Anissa before she could go off on a tear. "Ten minutes. See if you can come up with a plan better than the one we've been using for years." He sounded confident they couldn't, and Mitch resisted the urge to snipe back. Instead, he steered Jamie toward a smaller area separated by more sheet metal.

When they were out of earshot, she predictably rounded on him. "Thanks for volunteering me."

"We were already volunteered," he countered, "I'm just giving us an opportunity to keep aggravated assault off of our rap sheets."

"Okay," she saw the sense in his argument, "so what now?"

"Now," he said, "we figure out how to get into the zoo without being seen."

Jamie thought for a moment, pacing in the small space before turning to him. "Does every area have cameras?"

"Yeah," Mitch confirmed. "Keepers can use them to check on the animals when they're not around."

"They can log in remotely?" Her tone had picked up, now more encouraged than curious.

"Yep."

"What if we can have someone monitoring all the cameras at once? That way we know when security is around and when it's clear."

"Okay," Mitch could see the benefit of it, but the execution would be difficult. "How do you get the login information? They don't just give that to everyone."

"Getting information from people is what I do, remember?" He smiled at her teasing tone, accepting the shot at his earlier comment with a nod. "Can you send Ray and his goons on an errand? I need smart phones, like a dozen of them. And they all need internet access so I can set each one to look at a different camera."

"Alright," he was beginning to see her plan. "What about the alarms?" he asked. "We'll need to to cut those without messing with the cameras."

"Abe can do it," she answered assuredly. She sounded like she knew from experience, and he didn't question her. Instead he went off to relay her instructions to Ray and the others.

They were understandably skeptical.

"Just do it, Ray," Jackson cut off their protests with a sharp rebuke. Ray glared at them but eventually backed down. Anissa and Cody followed him out of the warehouse reluctantly, leaving Mitch and the team alone.

"Abe," Mitch turned to the larger man, "Jamie seems to think you're the man who can cut power to the alarm system without interrupting the camera feed."

Abe pressed his lips together for a moment, then nodded. "I can do it."

"Fantastic," Mitch clapped his hands together. "I need some coffee."

Chloe directed him toward the tiny makeshift kitchen that was set up on a balcony in the back of the warehouse. He brewed the instant coffee with a sneer of disgust, grimacing at the bitter taste. He found a smaller version of the zoo map next to the mini-fridge, and he took the time to make sure he knew the fastest route to the pathology lab. They would likely split into teams once inside to allow for the greatest chance of success. Mitch just hoped he wasn't paired with anyone from Ray's team.

"What are you thinking about?" Chloe's voice startled him, and he half-turned to acknowledge her as she walked up beside him.

"I'm just trying to figure out how I went from working at a zoo to breaking into one in the span of three months." He couldn't keep the acid from his tone, and Chloe nodded sympathetically.

"This goes against everything you believe in," she said. "I understand this is difficult for you."

Accepting the opening she was giving him, he took the opportunity to vent his frustration. "It's just these animals were more than likely born in a zoo. This life is all they know. Taking them to Africa and setting them free is practically a death sentence." He ran his free hand through his hair in a gesture of irritation. "And these so called activists don't give a damn about the animals. They think they're doing good, and it makes them feel like they're accomplishing something when in reality they're making things so much worse." He paused, working through the last barrier to utter what was really bothering him. "And I'm helping them do it. I'm condemning these animals to death."

"But on the other hand," Chloe spoke what he would not, "this is the only way we can get Jamie out of the country and away from the FBI. Your head is at war with your heart." He stayed silent, but it was enough of a confirmation for her to continue. "Have you spoken to her about this?"

"No," he shook his head. "And I'm not going to. She's already got enough on her mind without adding my own crap onto the pile."

"Do you love her?" Chloe's question caught him off-guard. He glanced at her for a moment in panic, but from her expression he knew she already had the answer. She was just giving him a chance to say it.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, I do." It felt good to get it out there, even if he was telling the wrong woman.

"Then tell her. Speak to her about your feelings...all of them. She deserves that much." She left him then, giving him space to think about what she'd said. He stared at the map for a few more minutes, but all of his earlier thoughts had been drowned out by Chloe's words. She was right - they needed to have a long talk - but now was not the time. Right now they needed to focus on completing their task and not getting caught by the authorities.

He made his way back down into the main area, listening as Jamie expertly manipulated whoever was on the other end of her phone call into giving her the login information for the cameras. When she hung up he saluted her with his half-full mug.

"Nicely done."

"Let's just hope it works." Her computer pinged, alerting her to a new email. She opened it and showed him. "Now all we need is the phones." She moved away, pacing in the small space for a moment before speaking again. "I don't know about this."

"About what?" There was a hesitation in her tone that he wasn't used to hearing from her. Usually when she decided to do something, she was all in.

"This," she gestured vaguely. "The cameras...everything." She was second guessing herself, and he silently cursed Ben Schaffer for the millionth time. She had been the one to give the FBI agent the benefit of the doubt, to trust him when the others were still unsure. Mitch wondered how she balanced the skeptical curiosity of a journalist with her innately trusting nature, and tried not to think about how much trouble that combination had probably brought her throughout her life.

"But this part was your idea."

"I know," she was agitated now, rocking her weight from one foot to the other like she couldn't decide whether to pace or not. "But look, it should work - it should work. But what if it doesn't?"

Empty platitudes were never his thing. "If it doesn't I'm gonna be breaking into a zoo with a bunch of nut-job radicals and no one is gonna have my back." He saw her panic for a moment before he went on. "But I'm not worried about that. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I have faith in you." He let his words sink in, watched as she let them seep into her bones and settle. She relaxed enough to smile at him and he nodded.

"Got what you wanted," Cody and Anissa came in carrying what looked like a pillowcase.

"Okay," Anissa handed Jamie the sack. "How's this supposed to work?"

Mitch listened as she laid out her plan to monitor the cameras and alert them to the presence of security. She sounded so naturally confident in her explanation he almost forgot how uncertain she'd been just moments before. When she was done, Cody shook his head.

"Seems complicated."

"Yeah, it is," Jamie tried for a positive tone, but missed the mark.

"No it isn't," Mitch pushed. "You got this. She's got this, right?" At his pointed question Jamie nodded sharply. It wasn't the most convincing, but Cody and Anissa seemed to accept it. They glanced once more at the map before disappearing into the depths of the warehouse for the last of the preparations. Once they were gone, Jamie deflated slightly.

"Mitch -"

"No," he set his coffee mug down and moved around the table to stand next to her. "It's not complicated, and it's a brilliant idea. In a few hours this will all be over and we'll be on our way to Africa." He reached out to rub her shoulder, and when she leaned into him he wrapped both arms around her.

"I miss my bed," she murmured.

Mitch's shoulders shook with amusement as he laughed softly. "I think it's safe to say it'll be a while before any of us see a bed again."

"It's time, boys and girls," Ray snapped his fingers and spun a finger over his head to indicate they should get going.

Mitch rolled his eyes and sighed as Jamie stepped back. "Wish us luck." He turned to walk away, but Jamie grabbed a hold of his hand to stop him. She tugged him back and pushed up to her toes to kiss him. Mitch savored it, lingering just a little longer than he meant to.

"Be safe," she whispered. She let him go and opened her mouth to say something else, but whatever it was caught in her throat. Finally she muttered, "I'll be here."

He knew in that moment what she had wanted to say. It was the same thing he'd been trying to tell her for a few days now. Somehow, the thought that she was having just as much trouble saying it gave him enough confidence to overcome his own hangups.

"Jamie, I -"

Ray whistled loudly, making both of them wince. Mitch closed his eyes and fought the urge to strangle the man. Jamie nudged him out the door with a quick warning not to kill their comrades before they could get to the plane.

"No promises," he grumbled back, but followed the other six to the large truck idling outside. The moment was lost anyway, he told himself. Cody was behind the wheel, with Ray riding shotgun and Jackson in between them. Anissa was driving her own truck, and as Mitch climbed into the backseat she turned to glare at him over her shoulder.

"Nice of you to join us."

Next to him, Chloe shook her head to warn against a reply and Mitch clenched his jaw shut. It was almost four in the morning and they were all stressed and exhausted. Adding the vehement protests Mitch had against this entire endeavor, and it was a wonder he hadn't completely snapped. _It's almost over_ , he told himself. The words repeated like a mantra in his head as they made their way to the Clearwater Zoo.

Anissa pulled her truck up behind a service entrance. She'd obtained the security code somehow, and as the large gate rolled back she led Cody through the back roads of the zoo toward the loading dock. Cody backed up to the ramp as Ray and Jackson jumped out. Once everyone was situated for the easiest getaway, Abe followed Ray over to a power box as Anissa and Cody went over the plan again.

"I'm going to the zebra barn first," Anissa said. "Once Ray and Abe are done, they'll grab the other hoofstock nearby. You two can go grab whatever you need from the hospital, but when you're done you need to get back here to help." It was clear from her tone she had expected Mitch to be of no help whatsoever. He thought about stalling on purpose to keep them from taking too many animals, but Anissa's sharp eyes were leveled on him as she finished her speech. "We need to be out of here in half an hour."

That half hour turned out to be one of the worst in Mitch's life, which was pretty astounding given his life so far. Adrenaline was currently overriding his anger, but he knew the moment things calmed down he was going to erupt. Abe was currently navigating the semi full of animals as Mitch tried to keep Ray from bleeding out in the back of Anissa's truck. She was driving erratically, alternating between asking how he was doing and cursing under her breath. Mitch was certain he wouldn't like what she was saying if he could hear her, so he focused instead on keeping Ray alive.

They screeched to a halt in front of the warehouse, and Abe maneuvered the truck around to the alley as Anissa and Jackson rushed to find something to help get Ray out of the truck and into the building. Jamie was pacing nervously when they burst through the doors, and Mitch saw the color drain from her face as she saw all of the blood.

"What happened?"

Anissa rounded on her with fire in her eyes. "Ray got shot and Cody is dead because we didn't have back up we could count on!"

Abe beat Mitch to an angered reply by a breath. "Back up you could count on? Nobody said anything about guns." Mitch had never heard him so much as raise his voice. Now he was livid. "No one said anything about guns!"

"Alright, everybody calm down," Jackson yelled. "We can point fingers later. Jamie, help us."

"Why didn't you take him to a hospital?" she asked.

"Because if he goes to the hospital, then he goes to prison," Anissa snapped. "Besides, your friend says he can help him."

Jamie looked at him in surprise. "You can?"

"I hope so," Mitch checked the wound and winced. "Otherwise GI Jane here is gonna put me down."

Anissa ignored his comment and handed him a towel to staunch the blood flow. "Okay, what do you need me to do."

Mitch replaced his hand with the cloth and glanced around, mentally compiling a list of things he would need. "Just get me whatever first aid supplies you have around here."

Luckily for all of them she was used to taking orders. "Okay, got it!"

"Sharpest knife you can find!" he added. "And a lighter to sterilize it." She nodded and dashed off. "Grab some rope or electrical cord, whatever you got," he added quickly. Jamie hovered just out of reach, her breathing short and erratic. Mitch knew she was still freaking out about Anissa's outburst and he needed to refocus her before she hyperventilated.

"Jamie, I'm going to need you to help me." She didn't respond, and when he looked up her face was still white as a sheet. "Jamie!" She jumped but he couldn't feel bad about it now. Ray was bleeding heavily, and he needed to get the bullet out. "I'm going to need your help."

Her eyes snapped back into focus and she took a few deeper breaths, though her face was still very pale. "Okay," she breathed. "Okay."

"I need to get the bullet out of him, but I don't have any anesthesia. We'll need to hold him down." Under his hand, Ray bucked twice then stilled. Anissa chose that moment to reappear.

"Oh God, is he -?"

"He's passed out," Mitch nodded at the bundle of rope in her hands. "Tie him to the table."

"Why?" Anissa asked, tethering Ray's left leg as Abe, Chloe and Jackson each took one of his other limbs.

"Because this is gonna get rough," Mitch said brusquely.

"Ray's in good hands," Abe spoke soothingly. "His bedside manner notwithstanding, if Mitch says he can help him, he can."

Anissa finished tying Ray's leg down, cinching the knot a little more tightly than necessary. "Look I know where the plane is, but it's not gonna do you any good."

"Why not?" Jackson asked.

"Because Ray's your pilot!"

Everyone froze for a moment as the implications of her statement sank in. "Wonderful," Mitch mumbled, turning to set Chloe to sterilizing the knife and tongs. Anissa was hovering very near Ray's head, and Mitch felt the last of his patience snap. "Go somewhere else!" She sneered at him and didn't move from her spot. It was Abe who finally stepped in.

"Anissa, Ray will be fine. We should prepare the plane for take off." He reached out to cup her elbow, steering her away from the makeshift surgery table and Mitch's acid tongue. She resisted for a moment, but Abe's gentle coaxing eventually brought her around. She promised to meet him outside in ten minutes and moved off, presumably to wash the blood from her hands. Mitch wished he could do the same.

Chloe returned with the small instruments and excused herself, leaving Mitch alone with Jamie. He turned and grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"Bullet's in a bad place," he told her as he opened the bottle and drenched his hands. "This isn't going to be pretty." He wasn't evenly really sure he could do this, but he couldn't back out now. The others expected him to save Ray's life, but that wasn't the reason he was working so hard to keep him from bleeding out. If Ray died, Jamie would feel responsible. She couldn't have known the feeds were crossed, but she had been the one in charge of the cameras. In her mind, Ray's death would be her fault, just as Cody's was. Mitch would do everything in his power to shield her from any more pain.

"You ready?" She seemed more together, though she still looked a little shaky as she nodded. "Okay, hold him down." Jamie placed her hands on Ray's chest, and Mitch realized she didn't have the proper leverage to exert any real control over him if he decided to buck. He hoped the ropes held. Using his left hand to pry the wound wider, he leaned over Ray's shoulder and slid the tongs into the gaping hole.

Ray bucked. His eyes opened, wide and wild from the pain. A strangled cry bubbled from his throat as Jamie tried to calm him down. "No, you're okay, you're okay," she told him, pressing her hands onto the right side of his chest away from the wound. She couldn't keep him completely on the table, but Mitch noted she was surprisingly strong for her size. Ray didn't lift more than a few inches, and he was able to probe for the bullet. "You're gonna be fine," she urged. "You're gonna be okay."

"What the hell is wrong?" Ray groaned, turning his head to glance at Mitch. His entire body was tensed in agony, and he grunted several times before going limp. As soon as his muscles relaxed, Mitch found the bullet and carefully pulled it from Ray's flesh. It made a satisfying plink as it hit the bottom of the bowl Jamie held out for him.

"Now what?"

"Now," he traded the tongs for the needle and thread, "I sew him closed and get cleaned up."

"Do you need me to help with that?" There was something in her tone that alerted him, and when he looked up she was once again pale and shaky. She was about to pass out on him, and if she did he wasn't entirely certain he would give a damn about closing Ray's bullet wound.

"Go lie down," he directed. "Find something to drink that isn't coffee." She moved off quickly, and Mitch split his attention between sewing the hole closed and listening for the sound of her body hitting the floor. When it didn't come, he assumed she'd made it to the cots and focused on his task. The man was still out when he was done, so Mitch cleaned up as much blood as he could and left him to rest.

He found Jamie lying on a cot upstairs, her arm thrown over her eyes and a half empty water bottle on the floor next to her. She'd taken her shoes off and unbuttoned her jacket, and if Mitch didn't know any better he'd think she was just napping. He sat on the edge, reaching for her wrist to take her pulse. She looked at him sluggishly but didn't move. Her heart rate was normal, but she was still very pale.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

"I'm alright. How's Ray?" She sat up slowly, and he scooted back to give her room.

"He'll live." There must have been something in his tone, because she gave him a half-hearted glare. "What?"

"You might disagree on some things -" he scoffed, but she ignored it, " - _but_ , he's still a human being. You did the right thing by saving his life."

Mitch thought that he and Ray probably disagreed on just about everything, but he didn't say it. Instead, he just shrugged one shoulder and stood. "Yeah, well, he's our pilot. He dies, we don't make it out of the country."

"Mitch!"

"The man nearly got us killed, Jamie," he countered. "He and his band of wackos opened fire on security guards and we were caught in the crossfire."

"It's not his fault you didn't know the guards were there," she shouted back. "If I had been paying more attention, if I'd had seen the feeds were crossed -"

"There's no way you could have known," he argued. "And it was their decision to bring guns in the first place!"

"If they hadn't, you'd be in jail right now."

"Don't," he hissed. "Don't you dare try to justify anything they did tonight."

She opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but he was keenly aware of how amped up he was and didn't want to say anything he'd regret. He held up a hand and turned away, retreating to the small area that acted as a kitchen. Someone had made a pot of coffee on a hot plate, and Mitch looked for a clean mug as Jackson and Chloe came crashing through the door.

"What's going on?" Mitch glanced between them, noting how Chloe's hands were shaking.

"Something's wrong with the animals," she said.

"Yeah," Mitch snarked. "That's sort of why we're all here right now."

"She means the ones in the trailer," Jackson explained. "They were all growling at us. First the serval cat, then the rest."

"And you were expecting them to behave themselves? They're in a place they don't know with people they don't recognize," Mitch knew he shouldn't be taking his irritation out on his friends, but Ray was unconscious and Anissa was taking Abe to the plane. Unfortunately, they were convenient targets. "Not to mention whatever the hell Reiden's Mother Cell has done to their brain chemistry. So, I don't really blame them for being a bit tetchy."

"Look," Chloe's tone was sharp as she stalked over, "I understand that you're under a great deal of stress right now. You don't want to be here; you've made that abundantly clear. But we're here now, and we all have to deal with it. Including you."

Mitch clenched his teeth together to keep from saying something else he didn't really mean. Instead, he turned his back to them and poured himself a mug of bitter coffee. It was awful, but he choked it down anyway. He had never been great at apologies, so he addressed Jackson's concerns about the animals instead.

"So they were all growling at you?"

"Every single one of them," Jackson confirmed. He seemed to sense Mitch's intent and accepted it in stride. "Like they'd all found a common enemy."

"Us," Chloe put in. She, like Jackson, was willing to move past Mitch's outburst and forget about it.

"And at first it was just the serval, but then the rest of the animals joined in?" Mitch began walking back toward the cots and Jamie. She would want to know what was going on.

Jackson and Chloe followed him, posting up by the makeshift doorway. Jamie was cinching the knot on her shoe when they arrived. Mitch glanced at her as he walked by to lean back against a rail, but he couldn't tell from her neutral expression if she was mad at him for his earlier behavior.

"Yes, but not all at once," Jackson said. "It was more like it was passing from one animal to the next."

Jamie had turned toward them, placing her feet on the floor but making no motion to stand. "What is it? What's going on?"

"I don't know," Mitch told them honestly. Animal behavior was more Jackson's expertise. He'd only heard one one thing that could explain it. "Maybe it's some kind of emotional contagion?"

Chloe crossed her arms across her chest. "What's that mean, 'emotional contagion?'"

"It's a biological phenomenon," Mitch fell back on his scientific explanations; they were infinitely easier to understand than human emotions. "Nobody quite understands it, but it's real. Like yawns are contagious," he offered. "You see somebody yawning, you can't help but yawn yourself. Same thing with laughter."

"And you think that's what happening with the animals?"

The scientist balked at the absolute in her statement. "I can't say for sure, but it's a theory."

"But if it's true, that would explain why the abnormal animal behaviors have been increasing so much these past weeks," Jackson latched onto the theory and ran with it. "Because animals in proximity could be triggering each other."

"Like inside the truck." Chloe said. "You're saying one of the animals starts displaying the behavior, then it spreads from one to the next."

"Like a spark." Jackson's voice sounded distant, like he was recalling a long past memory. When the others turned to him, he explained. "Something my father said - I didn't understand at the time - but he called it 'the spark.'" Mitch frowned, still put off at the mention of Robert Oz and his ideas. Jackson didn't seem to notice his disgust and kept going. "Okay, he said that once the spark was lit, it would spread all over the world from animal to animal, like wildfire. And that once this happened, it would be impossible to put out the flame."

There was a beat of silence as Jackson's words sunk in. Mitch was the one to break it. "Dramatic - and slightly apocalyptic - ramblings aside, we need to get out of here. Fast."

"Abe said he would call when they reached the airfield." As if on cue, Jackson's phone rang loudly, echoing in the almost empty warehouse. "That's him now." He answered it, nodding once and promising to be careful after extracting a similar promise from Abe. He hung up and sighed. "We've got a plane."

"I'll make sure our things are packed in the SUV," Chloe stepped back toward the door. "You three check on Ray and get whatever we need from here." Mitch went straight for the electroporator while Jackson went to look in on Ray. Jamie didn't follow either of them, choosing instead to visit the kitchen and pack up any remaining food.

Mitch found a spare backpack lying on the floor beneath the table. He tried not to notice the blood that had congealed on the far side of the slab, but it was difficult. Eventually he grabbed Ray's discarded shirt and tossed it over the mess before unzipping the pack and dumping the contents to make room for the ill-gotten equipment. The screen went in first, padded by one of Mitch's own shirts from his bag. The second large piece just barely fit, and Mitch silently thanked his antisocial adolescence and his almost cult-like devotion to mastering Tetris.

Jackson came up beside him as he was packing the power cord into the outer pocket. He quietly began loading all of the leftover first aid supplies into his own pack, offering silent companionship as Mitch worked up the nerve to say what he needed to.

"Listen, I'm...sorry. About blowing up before." Mitch didn't look at Jackson, but he could feel the other man's presence. "I just can't believe we let it get this far." Suddenly, everything he couldn't say before came bubbling to the surface. "One minute Jamie's wanted for killing an FBI agent, the next minute we're in a gunfight. At a zoo."

Jackson finally spoke, his tone firm but friendly. "You think I wanted it this way?"

"It was your idea to contact this Ray character," Mitch finally turned to Jackson. "Doesn't take a fortune teller to figure out that bad things might occur when he's around."

"Yeah, well I didn't hear you come up with any ideas about how to get out of the country undetected."

"Right," Mitch conceded the point and countered with one of his own. "But my no ideas beats the hell out of robbing a zoo to get out of here." He zipped the pack up more forcefully than he intended.

"We had no other options, Mitch. None."

The bubbling became a rolling boil. "People got shot, Jackson! By masked gunmen. We were among those masked gunmen." And, he added silently, it could have any of them that were shot instead. The fact that the security guards hit two FARM members instead of one of his friends was sheer luck.

Jamie had finished with her packing and came downstairs as the two men were talking. Jackson was apparently done with what he finally realized was a futile argument. "Well, at least you got your electroporator."

Jamie stepped in before Mitch could reply. "Ray still out, huh?"

Mitch had finally reached the end of his civility. "Yep. And I say we leave him."

"We're not leaving the guy, okay?" Jackson protested. "He's hurt."

With a final zip, Mitch stood tall and stared Jackson square in the eye. "I'm a veterinarian," he said coldly. "I didn't take the Hippocratic Oath." Without another word, he turned and walked away. Chloe was waiting with her bag next to the door, and as Mitch approached she opened it. Mitch followed her out as Jackson and Jamie caught up.

"Are we really just gonna leave him here?" Jamie asked.

"We could put a bow on him, leave him front of the police station," Mitch offered.

"We'll call an ambulance once we get to the airport," Jackson had at least seen the sense in leaving Ray behind. "Then we'll call the zoo, tell them where they can find their animals."

"And to use extreme caution when approaching them," Chloe added.

"Hold on, everybody."

Ray's voice halted them all in their tracks. Mitch bit back a groan and turned with the rest of them to find a very pale but very determined looking man staring them down. With a gun. Jamie was standing next to him, and he saw her flinch at the sight of the weapon. Mitch shifted ever so slightly to angle his body between her and Ray.

Jackson held his hands out but didn't sound at all cowed. "Seriously, Ray? What is it with you guys and guns?"

"Well, my charm only gets me so far, pal." Ray was holding his left arm tenderly, no doubt due to the crudely stitched bullet wound in his shoulder. He was clearly in pain, but the gun in his right hand was convincing enough. "Where's Anissa?"

"She's with Abe. They went to the plane."

"Good," Ray gestured with his gun. "Let's go get 'em. It's my plane, after all."

Mitch saw Jackson debate their options, coming up with the only answer he could while standing at the wrong end of a gun. "Fine. Come on." He turned back toward the SUV, his intent clear.

"No, the plan abides," Ray commanded. "We're taking the animals."

"We can't." Chloe was just as adamant, but Ray wasn't swayed.

"Sure, we can." He nodded toward the truck behind him, as though they had forgotten it was even there.

"No, it's impossible," Chloe tried to explain rationally. Mitch thought she was wasting her time. "Something is wrong with them."

"And we can make it right by setting them free." Ray gestured again, demonstrating why they couldn't really say no. "So get in the truck, and let's go to Africa." When no one made a move, his face hardened. "Now!"

A look passed between all four of them, a resignation that said they didn't really have a choice. Almost as one, they began walking slowly toward the truck. Ray turned in front of the cab and smiled. "So who's volunteering to ride in the back? Or do you wanna draw straws? All five of us can't fit up front."

Mitch was willing to go along in the face of a gun, but the thought of any of them having to make the trip locked in the back with already agitated, mutated animals didn't sit well. "Look, you're not getting it. The animals, they're not right. It's not safe back there."

"I'll ride in the back," Jackson offered. Ray wasn't budging, and the longer they stayed where they were the greater chance they had of being caught. Mitch understood, but he didn't like it.

Jamie didn't either. "Jackson, no. You cannot do that."

"I'll come with you," Chloe followed Jackson around to the trailer, leaving Mitch and Jamie standing with a half-crazed gunman.

"How sweet is that, huh?" Ray mocked. "All this saving the world stuff is really working out great for you, Jackie Boy!" Mitch didn't bother hiding his look of disdain as Ray turned back to them. "Mitch, you drive."

Mitch had no idea how to operate an eighteen wheeler, though he assumed it was similar to towing a trailer with a truck. Jamie climbed in first, situating herself in the middle as Ray came in behind her. He was panting and sweaty from the effort, his lips white from suppressing his pain. Mitch wondered if any of his friends would object to dumping him on the side of the road when he inevitably passed out.

"Let's roll."

It took Mitch a few tries, but he'd always been a quick learner. By the time they made it to the highway, he had the hang of it. Jamie had scooted close enough that she was pressed against him from hip to knee. He knew she was trying to keep from jostling Ray's injured shoulder, but he took it as a sign that she'd forgiven him for his earlier outburst.

"Appreciate you saving my life, sport," Ray said as they passed a sign for the airfield. 26 miles seemed like a million.

"You say that now," Mitch shot back snidely. "But I might have left a nickel in your chest. Shouldn't hurt, but getting through airport security might be an adventure." It was petty (and untrue) but he didn't care. Ray had already been afforded more chances and grace than Mitch thought he deserved, and the man knew that he didn't like him. There was no need for false civility.

They ate up the miles to the airfield in good time, and Mitch followed the signs as they neared the entrance. The entire truck gave a sudden shudder, then jerked. A loud bang echoed from the back, and Jamie reached out to grab his arm.

"What is that?"

"I'm pulling over," Mitch announced, fighting to keep the truck steady at fifty.

Ray adjusted his grip on the gun in his lap pointedly. "Like hell you will. We're almost there." He nodded at the sign welcoming them to Baker County Airport. The Cargo Terminal was just past the main gate.

The truck lurched again, and this time Mitch wasn't experienced enough to correct it. He slammed the brakes, hoping to keep the thing from jack-knifing or rolling. Jamie's grip on his arm tightened painfully, but he didn't care. After several terrifying seconds, the truck came to a stop in the middle of the road.

Mitch bailed first, jogging to the back to make sure Jackson and Chloe weren't being stampeded by crazed zoo animals. The trailer door had come unlatched, and the animals were escaping out onto the street. Jamie and Ray came around the other side just as the peal of sirens began to grow closer.

Jackson came out of the trailer, followed closely by Chloe. "We gotta get to the airport," he said. He took off at a run for the airfield just beyond the perimeter wall. The others were right behind him.

Jamie, at least, had the sense to remember the important things. "Mitch, the electroporator!"

He was already on his way back to the cab. "Yeah, I got it!" He snatched the strap and hauled the pack from its place in the floorboards. Half a dozen police cars screeched to a halt behind the truck, and Mitch wondered how they'd found them so quickly. He caught up to the others easily, and like a flock of birds they moved as a unit toward the open cargo door of Ray's plane.

Jackson slowed his pace, letting Mitch and Jamie ahead of him. "Go, go, go!" he yelled as they neared. Abe was already sitting in the cockpit, and Mitch saw the propellers spin up as he began the takeoff procedure.

Jamie made it in first. Mitch turned and ushered Chloe in ahead of him before boarding in two long strides. The cargo netting on the walls helped steady him as he moved as far in as he could. Jackson was moving toward the cockpit as Anissa reached to help Ray the last few steps.

"Hey! Go!"

"Hold on!" Abe yelled, and suddenly the plane lurched forward. Mitch reached out to steady Jamie as she nearly toppled over, and she gripped his hand like a lifeline. They began taxiing down the runway, and Ray finally made it to the front of the plane.

"Let's get out of here!"

Mitch glanced back, surprised to see a car chasing them down. It stopped, and an older man in a black suit got out and started running after them. After a few paces he stopped to aim his pistol at the wide open bay.

"I've got this." Mitch watched in horror as Anissa braced a military style rifle against her shoulder.

"No!" Both Jackson and Chloe moved to stop her.

Chloe got there first. She tackled the other woman in an effort to keep her from killing the man. The slick surface of the metal ramp caused them both to pitch forward out of the plane and onto the concrete runway.

"Chloe!"

"Anissa!"

Both Ray and Jackson moved toward the door, but they could only watch helplessly as the two women tumbled to the tarmac. The plane was picking up speed now, and soon Abe would have to close the door to take off.

Jackson shrugged his pack off and sank down onto the small platform under the netting. There was no way they could go back for her now. Mitch felt all of his anger and frustration suddenly disappear at the quick, cold fear that shot through him. Chloe would be arrested, tried as an accessory for the murder of an FBI agent, and there was nothing any of them could do.

The bay door began to close slowly, forcing them back into the main cargo area. Abe glanced over his shoulder quickly, then turned his attention back to the takeoff.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We lost Chloe," Jamie told him. Mitch could hear the despair in her voice, and he reached out to hug her to him with one arm. She turned her head into his chest and sheltered there, clutching at the side of his shirt with her hands. Mitch carefully slid the electroporator off his shoulder and wrapped both arms around her as she cried silently.

"We're taking off now!" Abe told them. "Sit down."

Jackson reached back and threaded his fingers through the netting to stabilize himself as Ray took the co-pilot's seat. Mitch noted his drawn face, and for once he had no snide remark. As Jamie settled down next to him on the bench and took his hand, he tried to imagine if it had been Jamie instead of Chloe who had tried to stop Anissa. The pang of loss hit him hard, and he felt the first bit of sympathy for the man who had antagonized him for the last twenty four hours.

The gravity shifted as the ground fell away, and Mitch felt his stomach give a little flip. Next to him Jamie's head lolled back to the mesh net, and he focused on her to keep from raging against the injustice of Chloe's capture. Turning her hand over he began massaging just below her pulse point, pressing his thumb into the niche between her bones to stave off the motion sickness she must be feeling now.

Her eyes opened, but she didn't look at him. "I can't believe…"

"I know," he whispered. His fingers kept up their ministrations as he leaned his head toward hers. She met him halfway, resting against him as she forced herself to take even breaths.

It took a few minutes, but the plane eventually leveled out and Abe turned the controls over to Ray in order to check on Jackson. He met Mitch's eyes as he passed, and the two men shared a nod of solemn acknowledgement. Mitch watched as Abe knelt in front of his old friend. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but Jackson nodded a few times in response. Abe patted his shoulder firmly, squeezing it in a brotherly show of comfort before standing and returning to the cockpit.

"We'll have to stop in Brazil," Ray said finally.

"Not my favorite place ever," Mitch frowned.

Ray looked at him with an expression that spoke volumes. There was no love lost between them. "This plane can't make the trip from here to Namibia in one go."

Jackson finally stood. "Zambia," he corrected. "We need to get to Zambia."

Ray looked at him, then at Mitch. "What's in Zambia?"

Mitch had nothing else to say to Ray that wouldn't devolve into one of them ending up on the floor, so he stayed quiet and concentrated on Jamie's breathing. Her eyes were closed, but he could tell she was still awake and listening.

"We'll explain later," Abe answered diplomatically. "For now, let's get to Brazil."

* * *

Author's Aside: This chapter was really amazing to write. I volunteer at a zoo on my weekends, so out of all the characters Mitch is the one identify with the most. What he was asked to do this episode had to have been phenomenally difficult for him, and I tried to draw on my own feelings to flesh out a bit more of what he might have been thinking/feeling during the entire endeavor.


	11. Eats, Shoots & Leaves - 3 Little Words

Once again, the writers seem to have fudged a bit when it comes to reality and travel time (read: getting to Africa in a cargo plane without refueling is impossible). This became an adventure of its own, and I almost made it a separate chapter. But in the end, I just put it all together and hoped no one would be upset for the long wait between chapters.

* * *

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 11: Eats, Shoots and Leaves - Three Little Words

 _Things are heating up, and the team encounters an obstacle on their way to Africa. Getting to the leopards proves to be a challenge; getting out again might be impossible. A Jamie/Mitch rewrite_

* * *

It took them nearly fourteen hours to get to Brazil, and by the time they landed in Lucena all of them were ready to get off the plane. Jamie eyed the small cargo area and wondered for the hundredth time how in the hell Ray thought he was going to transport all of those animals in such a tight space. There was barely enough room for five adults, let alone the menagerie they'd taken from Clearwater's zoo.

Ray stopped the plane smoothly and reached up for the button that would lower the rear cargo door. Jamie stood and swayed, steadied by her grip on the netting behind her and Mitch's hand at her back. Her legs felt like lead as she stumbled down the ramp, her muscles cramping after prolonged confinement on the aircraft. Next to her, Mitch was faring little better.

"When this is all over, I am never stepping foot on a plane ever again," he grumbled.

"Amen," Jamie shook her legs to restore circulation and to allow her muscles to remember how to move properly. Jackson and Abe shuffled slowly out of the plane behind them, followed by Ray.

"Welcome to Brazil, boys and girls." His flippant tone irritated Jamie, who was still reeling from Chloe's capture. It had been Jamie's fault in the first place that she was even wanted by the feds; now she would be held accountable for something she had no hand in. Jamie's guilt gnawed at her, tightening into a tiny aching ball in the pit of her stomach. No matter how many times Mitch and the others had told her it wasn't her fault, that she'd had no choice, Jamie still felt the soul-consuming anguish that came with taking a life.

"How long will refueling take?" Abe asked.

"About an hour," Ray estimated. "The guy who owns this airfield is a friend of ours, and a very influential member of FARM." The sound of a small electric engine grew louder, and the group turned. "There he is now."

A cart with a single rider was puttering toward them, and as it slowed to a stop Jamie got a look at their benefactor. He was an older man, mid-fifties, with brown skin and bright eyes. His jet black hair was peppered with gray around his temples, and beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt she could make out the ends of a faded tattoo on his right arm. As he parked and stepped onto the cement, Ray grinned widely and held his arms out.

"Luca," he greeted. " _Olá amigo!_ "

" _Olá_ ," Luca returned. "I am glad you made it safely, Ray." The two men embraced warmly, though Ray was careful to keep his injured shoulder away from the contact. Luca seemed to notice the empty plane and the strangers all at once, and when he pulled away from Ray his face was drawn together. "Something is wrong."

It wasn't a question, and Ray didn't try to deflect or play it off. "Things didn't go as planned, Luca. Cody is dead, Anissa's been captured. I just barely made it out in time."

"Without the animals." Something in the older man's tone changed, darkened, and Ray definitely noticed.

"It's not like we didn't try," he explained quickly. "But something's wrong with the animals. They're not right."

"Of course they aren't." Luca said. "They have been in prisons their whole lives."

Jamie felt Mitch stiffen next to her, and she quickly reached out to take his hand. He squeezed back, and she could feel the tension in his body coming off in waves. Now was not the time for him to go off on a rant.

"And who are they?" Luca turned his piercing stare on the newcomers, surveying them with a critical eye. Jackson stepped forward first, ready to take the lead now that Chloe was gone.

"Jackson Oz," he held out his hand to Luca, then turned to introduce the others. "And this is Abraham, Mitch, and Jamie."

"They helped with the operation," Ray clarified. "Jackson, Abe, and I go way back."

Luca stared at them a moment more, then accepted their presence with a small wave. "You must be tired from the journey," he switched from shrewd leader to welcoming host in the blink of an eye. "Come, come. There are showers at my facility, and food as well. Someone will take care of the plane."

Jackson cleared his throat quietly, and Ray picked up on the message. "Luca, how soon do you think we can get going? We need to get to Africa."

"For what _?_ " he asked. "You have no animals to deliver."

"There's something we have to do, and Ray said he could get us to Africa." Jackson was insistent. Jamie just wanted that shower.

"Please, Luca," Ray pushed. "You know I wouldn't ask unless it was important. There is something wrong with the animals, and these guys are trying to help."

"So you have said," Luca began walking back toward the cart. The others followed quickly. "But you have not said _what_ is wrong."

"He can explain it all," Ray jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Mitch, who glared back. "But not out here."

Luca thought for a moment, then nodded. "I will hear what you have to say," he said. "Then I will decide if it is worth sending an empty plane."

The cart was meant to hold four, but they made it work. Abe sat in the small cargo area in the back of the cart while Ray took the front seat with Luca. Jamie sat on Mitch's lap in the back seat with Jackson. The tiny engine complained about the extra weight as Luca pressed the gas pedal, but once they got moving it smoothed out.

They were close to the coast, and as they zipped along toward the rows of hangars Jamie could hear the cry of gulls in the distance. She had once enjoyed going out to the warm beaches of California early in the morning to walk the small strip of sand where the waves lapped at her ankles. It was her time to think, to suss through any stories she was planning or work through any problems she might be encountering. She missed the sound of waves.

They passed several hangars holding an assortment of different aircraft, from helicopters to small jetliners. Luca's facility was a converted hangar at the end of the row, and as the cart whined to a stop they all stepped out and peered up.

"Impressive," Abe mumbled. The hangar's large doors had been made into permanent walls, and a balcony indicated there were multiple levels inside. Luca led them through a small side door, past an armed guard, and into a sitting room. From here there was no indication they were on an airfield; it looked more like an upscale lounge room at a gentleman's club. Jamie and Mitch sat on the sofa as the others sank into armchairs with sighs of relief.

"I will have my children bring food," Luca said. "And then perhaps you can explain to me this problem with the animals." He left through a second door that presumably led into the inner parts of the complex. As soon as the door was closed, Mitch rounded on Ray.

"What in the hell is going on? Who is this guy?"

"Easy, sport," Ray held up his hands. "Luca is good people. He's just...careful. But once he hears the truth, he'll help us."

"You said you would get us to Africa, Ray." Jackson sounded angry. "You didn't say anything about Luca, or that we would have to convince him to let us take the plane."

"Well, I was expecting to have a plane full of animals to take to Africa," Ray said. "But that didn't exactly work out, did it?" He glared at Mitch, as though it was his fault the animals hadn't made it onto the plane.

Jamie jumped to his defense. "Hey, don't blame us for your failures," she snapped. "It was your idea to bring guns to the zoo!"

"And it was _your_ idea that led to my new scar," he shot back, indicating his shoulder. "If we had stuck to my plan, Cody and Anissa would be here now. And Chloe."

It was a cheap shot but it hit the mark. Jamie fell silent as another wave of guilt washed over her.

"Enough," Abe's sharp command silenced all of them. "Arguing about who is to blame is pointless; what is done is done. We cannot change it. What we can do is convince Luca that what we are doing is worth his effort."

The argument ended as the door opened. Two teens, a tall boy of about fifteen and a smaller girl, came in with trays of food and deposited them on a side table without saying a word. They left just as silently, eyes downcast as they scurried out of the room. Obviously Luca had told his children not to bother their guests, and they didn't even glance up curiously.

"Friendly bunch." Mitch's tone was dry, and Jamie could hear the frustration and helplessness she felt echoed in its undertones.

Ray scoffed and moved to the food, peering into the bowls curiously. "You're in luck, friends. This dish is a Brazilian specialty. Vegetarian, of course."

"Of course," Jackson took the bowl Ray offered and found a seat. The others followed suit, gulping down their meals in silence. Jamie picked at her bowl with a spoon, turning over the rice to inspect the other contents. There seemed to be an assortment of red and green bell peppers, squash, onion, tomatoes, and black beans mixed in a garlic sauce.

"It's good," Mitch told her. "Rich."

"It's _feijoada_ ," Ray said around a mouthful. "Luca's mother taught him how to make it. He substitutes the traditional meat with something more humane."

Mitch swallowed his bite before speaking. "You know, most plant cells are still respiring and functioning normally after being harvested. So your precious vegetables are still alive when you consume them. At least I kill my food before I eat it." It was a comment designed to get under Ray's skin. From the look on the other man's face, it had worked.

"Gentlemen," Luca came back before Ray could launch into what had looked like an impressive tirade against all meat-eaters. "I hope the food is to your satisfaction." Behind him, an older woman entered with a tray of glasses. Each one held a translucent liquid with lime wedges nestled beneath the ice. "I have brought some _caipirinha_ for you to try. It is a very popular drink in my country."

"Is it alcoholic?" Mitch asked.

Luca nodded. "It is made from _cachaça_ , a drink distilled from sugarcane juice. It is good."

Mitch reached for a glass, plucking a second one off the tray to hand to Jamie. She accepted it and sipped, wincing at the taste. Mitch didn't seem fazed, but he did lick his lips and nod appreciatively.

Luca seemed to sense her hesitation. "If it is too strong, we can get something else. Water, or a _limonada_ perhaps?"

"I will take a water, please," Abe said.

"This is fine," Jamie kept hers and took another drink. It was better the second time.

Luca gestured at the woman, muttering something in Portuguese. Jamie recognized the word for water, and she nodded before scurrying away. He settled onto a plush armchair and turned his steady gaze on Mitch. "So tell me about what is happening."

It took Mitch nearly an hour and most of the already depleted battery life on his tablet to explain what was happening. Jackson filled in the bits Mitch didn't know, like their brief expedition in Japan and finding Leo Butler and the Mother Cell. Mitch spoke quickly about their time in Rio, then their disturbing discoveries in Boston. By the time he was done, Luca was leaning forward in his seat.

" _Incrível_ ," he whispered. "And you want to go to Africa to stop this?"

Jamie knew what he was thinking. It was the same sentiment Anissa had expressed in that warehouse. She scooted to the edge of her seat and caught Luca's intense stare with her own.

"The leopards are the key," she told him. "Somehow they've mutated without the Mother Cell. Mitch can use their DNA and the Mother Cell to create a cure. We just need a way to get to them."

Luca considered her words for a long moment, and Jamie feared the worst. If he was anything like Ray and his associates, the man would be more than happy to let the animals rise up and overtake humanity. It didn't matter that they were artificially mutated; Anissa had made FARM's views very clear on the subject.

"According to your scientist, this mutation has merely accelerated the natural evolution in these animals."

"Look at the news," she pressed. "Nothing about this is natural. Humans have done this. The animals are mutating faster than the world can keep up with, and it's our fault. The entire ecosystem is being disrupted. All we want to do is reverse the mutation and get things back to the way they were."

"You mean back to humans exploiting animals for money? Hunting them nearly to extinction to satisfy our own egos? Butchering them?" Luca wasn't as angry as Anissa had been, but he was just as passionate.

Jamie kept his gaze, pushing her own fervor into her tone to get through to him. "I know you probably think that it's better this way, that we're getting what we deserve. Maybe we are." Jamie could feel the others' eyes on her, but she ignored them and focused on Luca. "But if we don't do something soon, everything we know will be gone. Your friends, family, your children. They will be lost to this...Beast Rebellion if we do nothing."

Luca stood up, glancing from Ray to the others. After another beat of silence he held out his hands toward Jamie. Trusting her friends to have her back, she accepted the gesture and slipped her smaller hands into his. He pulled her to her feet and met her gaze, staring intently as though he could peer past them into her soul. He seemed to be sizing her up and Jamie fought the urge to squirm. Finally, he smiled and patted her hands affectionately.

"I will have a plane ready in two hours." There was a collective sigh of relief from the group. "There are showers upstairs for you and your friends, as well as a fresh change of clothes."

"Thank you," Jamie gripped his hands tightly before Luca released her and turned to go. Just as he opened the door, he turned to address them once more.

"The animals are merely following their biological imperatives. It does not matter how they acquired them. I would only ask that you do all in your power not to kill unless you have absolutely no other alternative." He waited for her nod, then left them alone. When the door closed behind him, the others stood up and surrounded Jamie.

"Well done," Abe laid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed affectionately.

"Yeah," Jackson echoed. "Thanks, Jamie."

"Alright, we have a plane," Ray clapped his hands together. "Now we need a plan. I've got a guy in Zambia. Did some anti-poaching work with him last year. He'll have everything we need to hunt down a leopard."

With a plan in place and their means of transportation secured, the five of them went off in search of the showers. Jamie followed Mitch up a flight of stairs, surprised when the top step deposited her on what looked like a very upscale hotel corridor.

"Weird," Mitch had stopped on the landing. "Presumably we are still in an aircraft hangar?"

"I wonder how much it cost to convert this building," Jamie thought aloud. "Which way?"

"I have no idea," Mitch glanced down each side of the hallway. Doors were spaced every thirty feet or so on either side, and they all looked exactly the same. "Looks like some sort of barracks for FARM members."

"Makes sense," Jamie agreed. "This guy seems to be pretty high up the chain, if Ray's attitude toward him is any indication."

"He has been a bit muted since we arrived hasn't he?" Mitch turned toward her fully. "Nice work back there. I knew we brought you along for a reason."

"Hey," Jamie poked him in the arm, "if it weren't for me, you wouldn't even be on this wild leopard chase."

"Yeah thanks for that, by the way," he drawled in reply.

She could tell he was teasing by his tone, but Jamie was suddenly struck by the revelation of how much he'd sacrificed in the last three months. His job at the zoo, certainly, along with his teaching position. His apartment, probably, unless he'd paid three months of rent in advance. And all because he'd taken a chance on a junior reporter with a chip on her shoulder and fifteen year grudge. As he began walking away, she grabbed his sleeve and tugged him to a stop.

"Do you regret it? Getting involved in all of this?" She gestured vaguely to the rich wood of the walls around them, but she knew he understood her meaning. He stepped back over to her, keeping her close but not crowding her.

"Sometimes, I almost do," he told her truthfully. "You know, when something is about to kill me I wonder how the hell I ended up here." She laughed mirthlessly with him. "But then I think about you. If it weren't for all of this madness, we probably wouldn't have ever met."

He was right. Their professional circles were vastly different, and if things were normal Jamie would likely have gone her entire life without crossing paths with Mitch Morgan. The thought was a startling one that left her with an ache in her chest that she'd never experienced before. He seemed to be on the same wavelength again, and he reached for her face to cradle her cheek in his palm.

"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I'm glad I'm here."

She'd said the same thing to him months ago, both of them still adjusting to the whole team dynamic and wondering how their lives had led them to a hotel in Mississippi chasing wolves. She'd meant it as a thank you, a quiet utterance to reassure him that his presence wasn't just appreciated, it was wanted. Hearing those words parroted back to her now made her smile.

"You should do that more often." His thumb was softly tapping against her cheek, and she felt the tips of his fingers curling at her neck. His touch sent a warmth through her that was new and exciting.

"What?"

"Smile," he told her. "It makes you...I don't know, brighter."

"Brighter?" She straightened and canted her head slightly, her expression falling into one of confusion. "Is that your version of a compliment?"

Mitch shrugged a shoulder and slid just a bit closer. "I've never really been good at compliments," he told her truthfully. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and Jamie's eyes tracked the movement. When she looked back up, his eyes were dancing with amusement. "There is something I am good at, though."

"What's that?"

His lips descended on hers, tasting her like it was the first time. She let him direct the kiss for a moment, resting her hands on his chest as he pressed her back until she hit the wall behind her. His other hand moved to her waist, settling firm around the jut of her hip bone as his body covered hers almost completely. When she gasped for air his lips moved to her neck, and she heard him mumble something against her skin that sounded like her name.

Her thoughts which had been temporarily silenced by his kiss suddenly amped up again. Foremost in her mind was the rather public area they were currently standing in, but a close second was a rather daring disregard for their location. Decency won out, and Jamie pushed a bit on his chest. She meant to tell him someone could come up the stairs any moment, to stop him from exploring further.

What came spilling out was something quite different.

"I love you."

It was just as effective. His movements stilled, though he didn't pull away from their embrace. Jamie held her breath as the seconds ticked on. Panic and doubt seized her as he remained silent, and she almost opened her mouth to mitigate whatever damage she'd done. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to say it back, that it was okay if he didn't feel the same. It sat like lead in her stomach, pulling her under the wave of anguish that was building.

Under her fingertips she felt his body relax, his breath coming out in an almost laugh as he pulled her against him. The hand that had been on her waist moved to the small of her back, and she couldn't help but settle easily into his arms. It didn't feel like a rejection, and Jamie felt a swell of hope counter the roaring in her mind.

"Breathe, Jamie," he whispered in her ear. "I feel the same way." Relief coursed through her, and he laughed again. "I didn't realize I was hiding it that well. I thought it was obvious; Abe's certainly figured it out already. Probably even before I did." He leaned back and kissed her again, this time slowly.

Every nerve ending was on fire, hypersensitive from the adrenaline still coursing through her. She'd finally said it. And better still, he felt the same. The weight lifted instantly, setting her free and allowing her to soar under his ministrations. She pulled him closer, angling her head to allow him better access as she opened herself completely to him. He hummed in approval and pushed her back into the wall, using his body to keep her there as his hands roamed down to her waist. His fingers were warm as they slipped under her shirt, caressing the sensitive skin of her stomach and lower back.

Jamie was suddenly very aware that she hadn't had a shower in several days. "Mitch," she managed to whisper his name as he broke for air. He understood what she meant immediately, and his hands moved from her skin to grasp her arms lightly. She laid her forehead against his collarbone as she fought to control her breathing. His chest rose and fell beneath her head as he did the same, and they stood there for a few seconds in content silence.

"Come on," she pushed his shoulder to get him to move, allowing her to slip by him. He followed close behind, coming to rest only a few inches away as she stopped in front of the first room on the left. "Let's see what's behind door number one." She turned the knob, unsurprised when it twisted easily in her hand. Inside was a dark room, generic and clean. The curtains were drawn over the window, but there was just enough light slipping through that she could make out a twin bed in the corner and a set of drawers on the far wall. A small bathroom sat to the right of the door, and further inspection revealed a second door past the tub that probably led to an adjoining room. Mitch had been right; these were dorms for visiting FARM members.

Mitch hovered in the door, his eyes intense but unsure. Jamie wanted nothing more than to pull him in and pick up where they'd left off. But they had less than two hours, and Jamie was fairly certain that if she did that they would miss their plane. Mitch seemed to realize the same thing at the same time, and he combed his fingers through his hair as he stepped back from the threshold.

"I'm gonna…" he gestured behind him to another closed door. "I'll be over here."

"Okay." But she didn't want him to go just yet. Her confession had awakened something, and she couldn't resist padding over for another kiss. He obliged willingly, taking his time until it wound down.

"You know," he rasped, "this trip to Brazil is _much_ better than my last one."

She laughed and pushed him away, waiting until he'd opened his opposing door before closing her own. She turned and leaned back against it, closing her eyes as the sensations of the last few minutes washed over her again. She felt like a teenager all over again. Stolen kisses and late nights in the country flooded her mind, but the feelings those memories elicited paled against the all-consuming fire in her now.

"Focus, Jamie." She pushed away from the door and walked over to the chest of drawers. Clothes of varying sizes and styles were contained within, and she selected an ensemble that seemed appropriate for trekking across Africa in search of a leopard. New packages of undergarments were stored in the bottom drawer, and she found her size and tore the package open without hesitation.

She found towels in the cabinet beneath the sink, and when she turned the water on she was pleased to find the water pressure was adjustable. Soaps and shampoos were housed on a shelf above the tub, and she grabbed the closest ones as she stepped into the tub.

Jamie spent a long time under the warm spray. She could feel her muscles relaxing under the jet, and after she'd scrubbed herself clean she leaned against the cool tile and let the water sluice off her shoulders. She absently wondered how much hot water a place like this stored at any given time. She could probably stay here for hours and never run out, but she didn't want to be separated from the others that long. Reluctantly she twisted the knob to the off position, cutting off the water. Steam had built up in the room, so it was pleasantly warm when she stepped out onto the dark bath mat.

She toweled off quickly, slipping on the new clothes with a sigh of relief. It felt good to be clean again. She dried her hair as much as she could before throwing it up in a hasty ponytail. The towel she draped over the shower curtain, and her old clothes she left in a heap in the corner. She probably wouldn't see them again, but she didn't really care. Everything else she owned had been lost; it was almost as though she was casting off the last of her old life. These last few months had changed her, molded her into someone that would likely be unrecognizable to anyone she knew in Los Angeles. She still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

She found the others sitting in the same room they'd left, though they were all in different clothes and seemed to be in better spirits. They must have found showers of their own. The only one missing was Mitch, and her inquisitive glance around the room hadn't gone unnoticed.

"He is with our host," Abe supplied helpfully. "We received some news and he left rather abruptly."

"What news?" Jamie feared the worst, hoping that nothing had happened to Clementine or Audra. Jackson looked pale sitting in his chair, his eyes unfocused and sad. "What happened?"

"Here," Ray thrust a tablet at her. A news article was pulled up, and the headline made Jamie sick to her stomach.

 _Suspect Apprehended in Federal Murder Case_

Jamie read quickly through the article, trying to ignore the guilt that threatened to ebb. Chloe had been captured by the FBI, and the lead agent - Brannigan, she finally knew - was being hailed a hero. Jamie remembered his words in the warehouse, how he had been so close to killing them in cold blood because they had taken his friend's life.

"There's some good news," Ray reached over and swiped down to the next article. "Cody's not dead after all."

 _Two Eco-Terrorists in Custody, One Still At Large After Failed Zoo Heist_

Jamie felt a small part of her guilt abate at the news. It seemed his gunshot wound hadn't been fatal, and he'd been transported to a hospital almost immediately after their escape. She still felt a little responsible for his capture, but it was a hell of a lot better than his death.

"There's more," Abe said, coming to stand next to her. "Mitch left after reading further." Jamie swiped quickly, moving to the next article on the page.

 _California Declares State of Emergency After Animal Attacks Rise_

 _The Greater Los Angeles Area is now under martial law after hundreds die due to animal attacks. Safe zones have been set up across the state. Authorities are urging citizens to pack one small carry-on sized luggage and report to the nearest evacuation site._

It was getting worse, Jamie thought. She wondered why Mitch would be so upset; they knew things were going to be bad. She thought for a moment that he was worried about his friends, but then remembered the anti-social pathologist she'd met. Then who could he be -

It hit her like a bolt, a long-forgotten conversation coming back to her. _I took the job at L.A. Zoo to be close to her. She lives in California now_.

"Oh no," Jamie shoved the tablet at Abe hastily and moved toward the door, ignoring their confused inquiries behind her. She stepped into the hall and stopped the first person she found.

"Do you know where Mitch is? The other man who was with us?" The woman stared at her blankly, and Jamie sighed in frustration. She didn't know any Portuguese, and the woman didn't speak English. "Luca?" she tried, and the woman finally nodded in understanding. Jamie followed her through a series of twisting corridors until she came to a set of double oak doors. She knocked, and Jamie heard Luca's muffled voice answer.

" _Entre_." Jamie pushed through the doors, and Luca looked up from his desk in surprise. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Jamie shook her head. "I was just looking for Mitch."

"Ah, your scientist. Yes, he seemed rather agitated. He came in ten minutes ago demanding a phone. He is through there." There was another door on the side of the room, just as ornate as the two that led to the hallway. Jamie thanked Luca and slipped through, closing it behind her. Mitch was hunched over the table at the far wall, his hand cradling a phone.

"Pick up," he hissed. "Come on, pick up the phone." He hadn't heard her enter, and when she came up beside him he jumped. She laid a hand on his back and rubbed up and down to soothe the tension that had gathered between his shoulders.

"Your mom?" she whispered.

He nodded but didn't look at her. After a few more seconds he slammed the receiver down. "Damn it."

"I'm sure she's fine," Jamie said.

"You don't know that!" he jerked back but didn't go anywhere. "I've tried calling her house three times, her cell twice. There's been no answer."

"She's probably at one of the safe zones already," Jamie tried to be optimistic despite the storm brewing in his eyes.

"Or she could have been killed," he countered darkly.

"You need to stay positive," Jamie told him. "Thinking like that isn't going to help anything." He didn't say anything, but she could see he wanted to. His natural pessimism wasn't helping the situation, and her hesitant hopefulness probably wasn't sitting well. Still, she didn't let up. He could be mad at her if he wanted; she wasn't going to think the worst until she knew for certain. "Where does she live?"

"Lakewood, in The Village."

Jamie nodded and reached for the phone. She dialed a number, closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer that the person on the other end was still alive. After four rings, it connected.

"Hello?"

Jamie let out a breath and opened her eyes. "Ethan? It's...it's Jamie."

"Jamie? Oh my god, are you okay? I've been trying to reach you. Your apartment is empty and no one knows where the hell you are! The feds are looking for you. They say you killed a man!" His voice was getting faster and higher with each sentence, and Jamie recognized a classic Ethan rant.

"Ethan, focus, please. I'm alright, I'm fine. I know about the feds, but that's not important right now." She turned toward Mitch and returned her hand to the warmth of his back. "I need a favor. Are you still in Bellflower?"

"For now," Ethan said. "As soon as I hang up this phone, I'm on the next bus to a safe zone."

"I need you to go to Lakewood. There's someone I need you to check on." Next to her she felt Mitch stiffen under her fingertips.

"Are you serious?" Ethan laughed. "Jamie, it's anarchy out there!"

"Her son is with me, and he needs to know she's safe." When Ethan didn't answer right away, Jamie's tone hardened. "You owe me at least this."

"I owe you?" Ethan scoffed. "How do you figure?"

"Ethan, please, if you ever actually cared about me…I need you to do this for me. Please." She was begging now, but she didn't care. Mitch was worth it. She could feel his apprehension as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and he slipped an arm around her waist to tug her to him.

On the other end of the phone call, Ethan sighed. "I swear to God, Jamie, if I get killed because of this I'm haunting you forever."

"Fair enough," Jamie sagged in relief.

"Who am I checking on?"

Jamie asked and relayed Dianne Morgan's name and address, then gave him the number on the note Mitch had scrawled. "It's this number," Jamie told Ethan. "Call me the minute you know something." The moment she hung up Mitch was pulling her against him.

"Thank you," he breathed into her hair. "Thank you."

She could feel his body trembling, so she held onto him until the phone trilled next to her. She picked it up before the first ring was finished.

"Ethan?"

But the voice that answered her wasn't her ex. "Where is my son? Is he there?" She sounded just as Jamie had imagined her - a tough, stern tone good for wrangling unruly students (and one stubborn son) laced with that hint of softness that seemed to come with advanced years.

Jamie smiled. "Yes ma'am."

She handed the phone to Mitch, then raised up to her toes to kiss his cheek before leaving him to speak with his mother. Luca had left, either respecting their privacy or taking care of other business. Jamie didn't care; she was just grateful not to have to make small talk with their host.

She waited outside the door, listening to the timbre of his voice rise and fall as he reassured the woman on the other end that he was okay. She couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, but his rich laugh floated through the wooden door and surprised her. She'd heard his dry chuckles, his sarcastic huffs, and even a self-deprecating laugh or two. But this was different. It was honest and open and she hadn't ever heard it before. Suddenly it was all she wanted to hear. She made it her mission to elicit that sound from him herself, to hear its delight directed at her. She imagined the way his face would light up, the way he would cant his head just so to allow her to appreciate the way his eyes danced when he laughed. She didn't realize she'd closed her eyes until she heard the sound of the phone being set back on its cradle then muffled footsteps getting closer.

The door opened and Jamie pushed away from the wall. He paused in the open doorway, taking a moment to just stare at her. When the smile broke on his face she couldn't help but mirror the expression, caught up in this rare moment of happiness in the chaotic and violent life they now lived.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he closed the door behind him. "She's going to pack a bag and go with that Ethan guy to the safe zone." They began walking down the hallway toward the sitting room they'd come from. "Who is he, anyway?"

Jamie hesitated, then realized she was being silly. "My ex-boyfriend."

Mitch's step faltered for a moment. He glanced up in surprise for a moment, then resumed walking. "I just sent my mother with your ex-boyfriend?"

"Yep." It was rather hilarious when she thought about it like that.

He chuckled quietly. It wasn't the deep-throated laugh she'd heard before, but it lifted her spirits anyway. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and leaned on him just a little. He took her weight and accepted the half-hug.

"If I might ask," he said after a few moments, "what happened with you two?" Jamie winced as she remembered her last few days at the _Telegraph_ and Ethan's proposition. Mitch interpreted her silence to mean something else. "That bad?"

"No," she shook her head. "No, he was just...he was sort of the reason I got fired in the first place. Ethan was...well, he was sort of my supervisor."

"Really?" Mitch's scandalized tone was forced, and a quick glance told her he was enjoying this a little too much.

"Yeah, well, he liked his job more than he liked me, I guess. He didn't support me when I needed it, then offered what I'm sure he thought was a fair deal in exchange for not being fired. _Then_ he had the audacity to actually claim that it was a chance for us to start fresh." A memory came back and she smiled. "Actually, he was trying to get me to go away with him when you texted me about those cats in Brentwood."

"Huh," Mitch huffed. "You know, I've never believed in fate or destiny before, but I have to say you're making a pretty good case for it right now."

"There you are," Jackson half-jogged up them as they rounded a corner. "The plane's ready to go."

"Great," Jamie deadpanned. "I'm really looking forward to another long plane ride."

Jackson grimaced in sympathy. "Yeah, well, at least it's not a cargo plane this time. Luca's letting us take one of his smaller passenger jets. He's even sending two pilots with us. We should be there in less than eight hours."

"We're adding miracles to the list of things I'm starting to believe in," Mitch quipped. "When do we leave?"

"Right now," Ray came up behind them and clapped Mitch on the shoulder. "It's time to go save the world."

The private jet was everything Jamie had ever imagined. There were three rows of seats, plush and leather just behind the door to the plane. Two seats on either side of the aisle meant there was a lot of room to stretch out. Behind them, two couches lined each side. Beyond that a curtain separated the main cabin from the rear area, which likely housed the bathroom. It was nicer than some of the hotels they'd stayed at.

"This is what I'm talking about," Ray flopped down on one of the couches as the pilots performed the pre-flight checks. "I told you I'd get you to Africa, Jackie. Now we're doing it in style." The tranquilizer gun Luca had lent him was stowed safely against the bulkhead. It was their only weapon against the leopards they were hunting.

"Alright," Jackson took the first row of seats to the right of the aisle, raising the center armrest to give him more space. "Let's go."

Abe took the other couch, intent on sleeping the entire trip as Mitch and Jamie commandeered the seats opposite Jackson. It took only a few more minutes before the pilot came over the intercom and informed them off their imminent departure. The entire plane shook as the engines warmed up, and there was little warning before they began moving forward.

"I hate this part," Jamie whined as she gripped the armrest. Her stomach rolled as the plane gathered speed, and she fought the urge to groan. Their take-off was fairly smooth, and Jamie let out a sigh of relief as they finally lifted away from the tarmac. Mitch leaned over and pried her hand from the armrest, slipping his fingers between hers.

"Next stop, Africa."

Two hours into their flight one of the pilots came back with a hastily scrawled messages. It was from Ethan. He and Dianne had made it safely to a safe zone and were being issued quarters and rations. On the note was a number where they could be reached, as well as an address and a seven-digit number Jamie assumed was some sort of code or identification number. Mitch thanked the young man and tucked the note into his pocket.

Jamie looked up from the tablet she had borrowed from Luca. He'd offered them each one, but Jamie had been the only one to accept. She hated not knowing what was happening in the world. Still, her curiosity about Mitch's mother won out. "What's your mom like?"

Mitch thought about her question for a moment, then shrugged. "She was a teacher for almost thirty years before she retired and moved out to California. Her brother lived out there with his family, but he passed away a few years ago. Now she spends most of her days gardening and tutoring kids at a local shelter."

"She sounds amazing," Jamie admitted. "So you have cousins? Family other than Clem?"

"I do," he said. "But we're not close. I was always the odd one, the one no one wanted to invite to family gatherings."

"Their loss." Jamie let that sit, returning her focus to the article she'd been reading. Ever since finding out the FBI agent's name, she'd used all of her investigative skills to compile a dossier on the man. So far, he was what he had claimed to be - a thirty year law enforcement veteran with an impeccable record and countless accolades. There was nothing to indicate he was involved with Reiden or any illicit activity. He was a widower with no children of his own, and any extended family he might have had was out of Jamie's range of knowledge. She couldn't find anything more on Chloe's arrest, but it had only been a day. She was likely still en route to Boston to face a grand jury. Jamie hoped her DGSE contacts could do something for her.

"What about you?" Mitch said suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Hmm?" She kept her eyes on the screen for a moment more, then glanced up.

"What's your family like?"

"You've met my aunt and uncle," she told him, remembering the rather awkward meeting months ago after Senator Vaughn had turned her away. She'd been ready to quit, to give up the quest for her mother's vengeance and begin to piece together a new life for herself. Luckily for her, Mitch had presented a different opportunity. "I haven't heard from my dad since he left, and I have no idea about his family. My mom's parents died when I was little, so after mom went Uncle Bo was all I had."

"You have four cousins, right?"

"Yeah," Jamie turned her tablet off and stowed it away. This sounded like it was going to be a longer conversation. It wasn't that she minded; she relished any opportunity to get to know Mitch Morgan better. She hadn't been prepared to do it now, but they might as well. They had the time to kill. "My teenage years were very...loud."

"Are they all around your age?"

"The twins are," she told him. "They're just a year older. Reese graduated high school the year I moved in with them. Charlie's younger than me by five years."

"All boys right?" Mitch shook his head. "I can't imagine."

Jamie's smiled fondly as she remembered the years after her mother's death. "It was chaotic, but they were a big help for Uncle Bo when the farm was struggling. He didn't have to worry about paying workers; the boys worked the farm until they graduated."

"I bet they made it hell on your boyfriends, too," Mitch had half-turned in his seat and was leaning against the bulkhead.

"Oh yeah," Jamie laughed. "Charlie wasn't so bad because he was a lot younger, but the twins were always following me around, chasing away boys at school, that sort of thing. I think Uncle Bo put them up to it, but I could never prove it." She thought about her prom night and debated on telling Mitch the rather sordid details of her youthful indiscretions. Surprisingly, she found that she _wanted_ to tell him - wanted him to know everything about her. "I actually had to come up with a pretty elaborate plan to ditch them after my prom."

"Ditch them?" Mitch interest was piqued. "And why would you need to do that, Miss Campbell?" His mockingly innocent question made her grin; she didn't have to tell him why. "Who was he?"

"Tommy Baker," she said. "I actually saw him when we were in Folsom. His mom owns the shop you bought the flowers from."

"Did he recognize you?"

"He never looked up," she told him. "I don't know if he would have known me even if he had, though. I've changed so much since then." She decided to change the subject before things became too maudlin. "And you? Any past girlfriends I should worry about popping up unexpectedly?"

He smiled twisted into one far more self-deprecating as he shrugged. "I know this might come as a shock to you, but they weren't exactly lining up around the block." He shot her a sideways glance that screamed indifference, but Jamie could see beneath that facade now. "I've had one or two serious girlfriends, and you know about Audra...but no one you need to worry about." He added this last bit more jovially, pulling their conversation back into safer territory.

She recognized his attempt to deflect away from himself, and she let it go. There would be time for deeper conversations later. "Right now all I'm worried about it not dying in the wilds of Africa while we search for leopards that are most definitely murdering people."

"Yeah, well," Mitch relaxed back into his seat, "the sooner we find the leopards, the sooner we can save the world."

Jamie laughed, and behind her Ray let out a soft whoop of excitement. "That is the greatest thing I've ever heard in my life," he proclaimed. "I've always wanted to save the world."

Mitch ignored Ray and leaned forward to address Jackson across the aisle. "Explain to me again why he's here?"

"Because -" Jackson began, but Ray cut him off.

"Because you wouldn't even have a plane if it weren't for me, sport. I've got as much right to be here as you."

Mitch opened his mouth to reply, but Jamie laid a hand on his arm. "Ray, do you know where the drinks are? I'm getting thirsty."

"Sure do," he winked at her. "There's a fully stocked mini-fridge just through there." He pointed behind him toward the rear of the plane. "Can I get you something?"

"I'll get it," Jamie pushed up and steadied herself against the bulkhead. "You're injured, after all. Need to rest." She was probably imagining the sway of the plane as she walked back to the curtain, but she certainly didn't imagine the burning stare that followed her. Ray watched her like a hawk as she pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the small alcove. The pressure from the plane had muffled her hearing, but she thought she heard Mitch's sharp tones behind her as she poured both of them a vodka on the rocks.

"Thanks," Mitch accepted the drink gratefully as she sat back down next to him. Jamie thought there was a bit more tension in the room than when she had left, but nothing else seemed amiss. Jackson was sifting through his father's research again, Abe was crashed out on the couch, and Ray was flipping through a magazine. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted in the atmosphere.

"Everything alright?" Jamie asked, watching his face closely for clues. _There_. His eyes darted over to Ray for a fraction of a second, then he shook his head and took a sip of his drink. Something _had_ happened during the short time she'd been gone, but Mitch wasn't going to tell her. Whatever it was had set Mitch's back up, and she was itching to ask the question. She had a feeling she wouldn't like the answer, so she dropped it.

"We should get some rest while we can," Mitch said once they had finished their drinks. "Who knows when we'll be able to sleep again."

Jamie agreed, and after a few moments of fiddling with the seat controls they were both stretched out and snoozing.

"Jamie, we're landing," Jackson's voice pulled her from sleep, and she blinked several times to clear the muddled fog from her brain as she woke up. Mitch was rousing next to her, having been poked by Abe from his seat behind them.

"M'kay," Jamie sat up straight and set her seat back to its original position. "Time is it?"

Jackson checked his watch. "Uh, east coast time it's about eight in the morning. It's nearly two in the afternoon local time."

"Where are we?"

"About thirty miles outside Lusaka," Abe supplied. "The pilot said it was as close as we could land safely."

"Close to what?" Jamie wondered.

"My guy has an outpost set up a few miles from Mpasi," Ray said as he stood and moved to the front of the cabin. "We'll have to get there the old-fashioned way."

"Horseback?" Jamie asked hopefully. Ray just smiled and turned the handle on the outer door.

The sun was nearly blinding after being cooped up for so long, and Jamie shielded her eyes as she squinted against the bright light. _My kingdom for some sunglasses_ , she thought wistfully. Someone had wheeled a set of stairs over so they could descend to the pavement. She hissed and recoiled in pain as her hand hit the hot metal railing.

"Don't grab that," Ray shot over his shoulder unhelpfully. Jamie sneered at the back of his head and followed him to the ground. Once they'd all deplaned, Ray pulled out his map and pointed to a spot on it.

"This is our target. The pilots are leaving two days from now to return to Brazil, with or without us. As long as we keep a good pace, we should be back in a little over twenty four hours. With any luck, we'll reach the outpost before nightfall." He folded it up and looked around. "Trust me, you do not want to be stuck out in the bush after dark."

Abe shrugged. "Jackson and I have camped out here before. There are tricks to keep the animals away."

"Glad you're along, then," Ray stuffed the map back into his bag. "Let's go." He shouldered the dark green military pack and gripped the tranq gun. Each of them had a bag given to them by Luca, though hers was smaller and Mitch's held only the electroporator. Jamie felt bad that the others were carrying all of their food and water, but the thought of a ten mile hike while lugging a heavy pack made her keep her thoughts to herself.

Two miles in they stopped for a break. Jackson pulled new water bottles out of his pack and handed them out. Jamie downed half of hers instantly.

"Aren't we below the equator? I thought it was winter here," she said. "How come it's so hot?"

Abe laughed and shook his head. "Winters here are quite different from winters in America," he said. "It is the dry season, and it is beginning to warm up."

"It's warmer than usual," Jackson added. "Normally it doesn't get above eighty or so until September."

Jamie soaked in the information and filed it away almost automatically. She usually liked learning new things, but she was on edge due to the nature of their mission and couldn't enjoy it as she normally did. She held onto her bottle as they set off again, keeping their pace easy but purposeful.

"We getting close?" Mitch asked about an hour later. They'd stopped for another water break and to check the map. Ray nodded.

"The outpost is less than a mile," he tapped a crossroad on the map. "We're almost there."

"Thank God." Jamie's feet were beginning to ache; she wasn't built for this sort of long-distance hiking. Next to her, Abe and Jackson barely looked winded. "You two seem to be enjoying yourselves."

Abe grinned back. "It is good to be in Africa again," he told her. "I missed this."

"What," Mitch grumbled, "dry wind, endless dirt, and not a soul for miles?"

"Yes," Abe either didn't notice his sarcastic tone or chose to ignore it. "There is something about this place that seeps into your soul and settles. There is a reason people call it 'Mother Africa.' For some, it is a deep part of you that never leaves, no matter where you may go."

Jamie thought of Folsom, of fields of cane and her family. A wistful smile played at her lips, and she knew what Abe meant. She wondered if Mitch did. From what little she knew of his childhood, he didn't really have a hometown. He and his mother had settled in Alabama after his parents divorced, but other than that she had no idea where he was from.

Ray had pulled a radio from his bag and adjusted a few knobs before pressing the call button. "Mpasi Base, this is Ray Endicott. Over." Silence met his call, and he tried again. "Mpasi Base, come in." He looked at the others and shrugged. "He's probably out poaching the poachers. He'll be there."

"Right," Mitch turned away from Abe and brought his hand up to shield his eyes as he peered into the distance. "Come on, then. The sooner we find the leopards, the sooner we save the world."

"That's what I'm talking about," Ray grinned. "I'm so stoked to be a part of the team."

Jamie caught Mitch's gaze and rolled her eyes for dramatic effect. He chuckled slightly and returned her gesture with a nod. Ray was annoying, but so far he'd been fairly useful. As long as Jackson and Abe could keep a handle on him, he could be tolerated for the sake of the mission.

The next half mile passed quickly as Ray recounted a few tales of his adventures in Africa with his friend, emphasizing how reliable he was and his knowledge of the area. It sounded to Jamie like he was trying to justify this whole endeavor, but she didn't say so. Out of the corner of her eye, Jamie saw Mitch wipe his face and down the rest of his water in two big gulps. It was good they were getting close; their water supply was getting low.

"I'm a little envious of Chloe right now," Mitch said. "Nice air-conditioned cell." Jamie had to agree, though she felt bad for it.

"My man here in Zambia is the real deal," Ray was still gushing. "He'll have the intel on leopard sightings, and he'll outfit the lot of us. This is rough bush; we need a lot more than a tranq gun."

It was the first intelligent thing Jamie had heard him utter. Their promise to stick to non-lethal means seemed to mean little to Ray, but none of them were complaining. Facing off against an apex predator like leopards with a measly tranq gun for defense was very low on Jamie's to-do list.

"Thanks, Ray," Jackson said the thing Ray had been fishing for. He lit up.

"You got it," he said. "I'm with you now and I aim to help, alright? Because?" He turned to Mitch expectantly. "Come on, say it for me, sport."

"Shut up," Mitch looked ready to deck Ray, help or no help.

"One more time," Ray begged lightly. "Honestly, I can't get enough of it."

Mitch sighed, his eyes never leaving the horizon. "The sooner we find the leopards, the sooner we save the world."

"Beautiful."

Jamie ambled sideways to place herself between Ray and Mitch, hoping that would at least discourage him from attacking the other man. Mitch glanced at her knowingly, nodding his thanks as Ray turned his attention to Jackson.

"There it is."

A small hut shimmered in the distance, the vision wavy from the heated air rising from the ground.

"Thank God," Jamie breathed.

It was quiet as they approached, the only sound coming from the television sitting on a small table. Something about it set Jamie's back up, and she hovered near the entrance as Abe, Jackson and Ray went first.

"Hello?" Jackson called. "Hello!" There was debris scattered on the floor, like a struggle had taken place. Cups had been knocked over, papers strewn about, and two plates of food had been upended onto the floor.

Ray and Abe moved to the counter and Jackson righted a chair as Mitch examined a large map on the back wall. Jamie watched Abe as he came up to the end of the bar. He stopped abruptly, his eyes freezing on something none of them could see.

"Uh, Jackson?" His tone was careful, even.

"What is it?" Jamie's curiosity got the better of her and she walked forward even as Abe held out a hand.

"You might not want to -"

His warning came too late. Jamie rounded the corner and saw pools of blood and shredded flesh. "Oh my God!" She shied back and covered her mouth with her hands as she fought the bile rising in her throat.

Jamie had backed up to the wall, unable to tear her eyes from the gory scene. Mitch came over to her and stepped into her line of vision, pulling her gaze up to his eyes.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's okay. Don't look at it." He rubbed her shoulder soothingly. "Breathe." She forced her eyes away from the floor and focused on the drone from the television as she sucked in deep breaths. "Good." He moved away to inspect the bodies, his medical training kicking in.

Jackson stood from where he'd crouched to check for a pulse. "Well, that explains why they didn't answer our radio call."

"Damn it," Ray hissed. "This is my guy," he sighed. "The man with the plan. Looks like he put up a good fight though." Jamie heard the tinkle of metal shell casings as he tossed them away.

"Who would do this?" Jamie asked. She knew what had happened - it was why they were here after all - but seeing it with her own eyes was something else. She desperately wanted to believe what had killed these men was anything other than what they were seeking.

"Not who," Mitch corrected. "What. Those are claw marks."

"Leopards." Jackson confirmed.

"This is a slaughter," Ray sounded incredulous despite what they'd been telling him the past few days. "I mean, they weren't even feeding. It's just..."

"Strange," Mitch turned from Jamie to finish Ray's thought, though she noticed he kept his eyes off the floor as well. "Yeah strange is good," he said. "Strange tells us we're on the right track."

Something on the television caught her attention, and Jamie leaned in. "You guys," she reached over and turned it up so they could hear what was being said. The chyron at the bottom read _The Experts Debate: What's Wrong with the Animals._

"This is happening on every continent, in every major city," the man on the left was saying. "This is not a coincidence."

"What would you have us do?" the second man countered. "Shoot all the zoo animals? What about farm animals? Pets?"

"My point is this is a virus and it's spreading fast."

"There is no evidence of a virus -" he was cut off by Jackson switching off the television.

"At least they're starting to pay attention." Abe could see the bright side of any situation.

Mitch rubbed his face wearily. "Which means it's getting worse."

"All the more reason to get moving," Jackson grabbed his duffel bag from where he'd dropped it earlier. He unzipped it and began tossing in water bottles from the supply near the desk. At least they wouldn't go to waste. Mitch had gone in search of a bathroom as Ray searched for any spare ammo or weapons. That left Abe and Jamie standing in the center of the room. He had found a supply of equipment in the back of the building that would serve them well. A tent, first aid kit, emergency rations, it was all there. Abe lifted it all and then gestured with his head to the area just behind her.

"The car outside," he said to her, "you might find some keys on those bodies over there."

"Are you serious?" Jamie balked. She didn't even want to look at them for very long, much less touch them. At Abe's nod, she groaned and crouched down, very gingerly sticking two fingers into the man's pocket.

Luck was on her side. She found a ring and pulled out a set of keys attached to an old brass keychain. It had been sun-faded and worn smooth by time, but Jamie appreciated the detail of the embossed lion. It was standing on all fours, facing forward, and Jamie could even make out the lines of his mane and the ridges of his teeth as he roared in defiance.

"They used all our ammo in the fight," Ray's outburst made her jump, and she quickly turned to hand the keys to Abe. "Now all we got is this tranq gun."

"Alright," Jackson zipped up his duffel and lifted it with some effort. At least they had a car now; carrying that much water would be nearly impossible for any length of time. "Let's do what we came here to do."

The others agreed and began gathering their things.

Jamie stopped them. "We can't just leave them like this." She kept her eyes off of the bodies directly, but it was clear what she meant. The others exchanged looks.

"Jamie is right," Abe nodded. "They deserve to be treated with respect."

"Yeah," Ray let his bag slide off his shoulder. "No one should die without words bein' said, at least." He seemed to accept that it was his job, since they had been friends of a sort, and began walking toward them. He paused for just a second as he passed Mitch. "Help me, will ya?"

Mitch cleared his throat, and for a moment Jamie expected him to snap at Ray. Jamie wasn't sure there was a force in the world that would let these two men get along, even for a short time. To her surprise, however, Mitch merely nodded and turned to help.

It took almost half an hour out of their already dwindling day, but as they stood over the two newly mounded piles of dirt Jamie felt better. It had been the right thing to do. Ray spoke a few words, and Abe offered a traditional prayer for the region. It wasn't a full service with all the rights and respects they deserved, but it was better than leaving them lying on the floor to rot.

"Time to go," Jackson said finally. He slid behind the wheel as Abe took the passenger seat, leaving Jamie to climb into the back cargo area with Ray and Mitch.

It was dark by the time they found a suitable place to camp. Jackson and Abe both cautioned against sleeping out in the open, so they found a small copse of trees that would serve as shelter. It took them almost half an hour to set up camp, but soon enough they had a fire crackling and the tent erected. Jamie glanced at the small space inside and wondered not for the first time how they were all going to fit.

The answer was, apparently, they weren't. They set up shifts to keep watch in pairs. Jamie had initially volunteered to keep watch with Mitch, but Jackson had pointed out it would probably be better if at least one person in each pair knew about life in the African bush and how to handle the tranq gun. So Mitch and Abe had volunteered to go first, leaving the other three to try to get some sleep. Jamie was given one end of the tent, with Mitch and Abe's stuff acting as a sort of barrier between where Jackson and Ray slept on the other. Ray's snoring almost drowned out the sound of the two men by the fire, but Jamie could just about pick out Mitch's voice in any situation.

After a rather uneventful trip to the bathroom (which was just a small secluded area several yards from their camp) and a changing of the guard, Jamie was now nestled snugly in between the tent wall and Mitch's body. Abe had discreetly rearranged the sleeping packs so that he was on the far end of the tent near the door, though Jamie thought it was unnecessary. Mitch had already bedded down, his face relaxed in sleep as he curled on his side facing her. Even from fifteen feet away there was enough firelight filtering through the tent opening to partially illuminate the small area, but Mitch's face was cast in shadow. He'd left his glasses on, his arm bent up under his head to use as a pillow. His mouth was slightly open, and Jamie could hear every inhale and feel every exhale on her cheek as she lay on her back.

"Hey Abe?" she whispered.

"Yes?" His reply was just as soft, but Mitch didn't stir. She knew he was a sound sleeper from the few times they'd shared sleeping space; unless he heard his name or something resembling an alarm, he wouldn't budge.

"Do you think Chloe is okay?"

"I am sure she is fine," he said. "Certainly safer than we are right now."

"Thanks for the reminder," Jamie shivered despite having her blanket and Jackson's covering her.

"When we find the leopards and Mitch makes the cure, we will return to America and clear her name. And yours," he added quickly. "Get some sleep. We will need to be sharp tomorrow."

"Right," Jamie took in a deep, cleansing breath. "Wouldn't want to get eaten by leopards." She listened for a few more moments to the cries and calls around them. It used to be soothing, a reminder that she was a small part of something greater. Growing up in the country, Jamie had always loved the sounds of nature. The chirp of a cricket at dusk or the rustling of wind through the trees had been constant companions in her childhood. She took solace in the fact that no matter what else changed in her life, the spirit and life of nature was everlasting and unchanging. Now everything was tinged with a different sort of feeling, an unease that permeated her bones and left her unsettled.

A low growl sounded in the distance and Jamie jumped, gasping in the silence of the tent.

"It is a civet," Abe's gentle voice explained. "An African raccoon. They are solitary creatures and mostly harmless. I don't believe it will come into the camp."

"Not normally," Jamie said. "Things are far from normal."

"Try to sleep." Abe's breathing evened once more, and this time Jamie forced herself to close her eyes. It didn't take long for her body to relax enough to allow her to drift off.

"Wake up!" Jamie's eyes snapped open and she was scrambling to her feet even before she was fully awake. Abe had already exited the tent and grabbed a torch, and as Jamie rose to stand beside Mitch she noticed Ray crouched a few yards away.

"Saw something zip by," he told them quietly. "Throw me that box of tranq darts, will you?" he held his hand out as he stood, and Abe tossed the small box at him. He caught it one-handed and slipped into his pocket. "If it's a leopard, I can handle it."

He moved to walk into the tree line, but Abe stopped him. "Ray, you stay here. We're safer together."

Ray looked back confidently. "Right, I got this." He vanished into the trees, leaving the four of them standing next to the fire unprotected. It was this thought that caused Jamie to shuffle just a bit closer to Mitch, and he seemed sense her unease. He reached back and grasped her hand, squeezing it reassuringly before letting go.

The rustle of leaves drew their attention, and Jamie stared at the spot for a few long seconds. She expected a leopard to erupt from the bush at any moment, and the prolonged noise set her on edge even more. Abe turned with his torch and tried to illuminate the area, but nothing penetrated the thick overgrowth.

The rustling grew louder and so did the pounding of Jamie's heart. Her fight or flight instincts were on high alert, and she was almost one hundred percent certain which one her body would choose. She glanced behind her, noting the clear path that led to the jeep sitting just off the road less than fifty yards from where they were now. Could she make it? She doubted it. But there was no way in hell she wasn't going to try.

The trees moved again, and Ray appeared suddenly in the clearing. Jamie felt all of the adrenaline that had built up in her system disperse at once, washing over her like someone had doused her with a bucket of ice water.

"Nothing there," he said. He stopped a few feet from them and smiled. "Looks like we live to die another day."

At least that's what he would have said. The end of his sentence was cut off as a large mass slammed into him.

Chaos erupted as Ray went down beneath the leopard. Jamie screamed as several shapes came out of the tree line, and she felt Mitch tug her forward despite her instinct to flee. He pressed his back into her, putting himself squarely in front of the predator. She gripped the back of his shirt fearfully, her eyes wide and frightened as Jackson and Abe swung their torches around to keep the big cats at bay.

"Hey, man, look out," Jackson hissed at Mitch. He turned, keeping Jamie behind him with outstretched hands, as another leopard closed in on the other side. Jackson passed Mitch a torch, and Jamie stepped back so he could take it. He jabbed it at the nearest cat, sending it a few steps back. Abe handed her a torch of her own, and she held it in front of her like a sword. If the cats attacked, they would be little more than annoyances, but for now they were still wary of the fire.

"Jamie," Jackson glanced at her for a second before turning his eyes back to the leopard in front of him, "those glow sticks you have..."

"What?" she turned her head just slightly, keep the cat in her peripheral.

"Your glow sticks," he said. "Bring them here."

Keeping the torch aloft, she backpedaled a few steps until she could reach her pack. Luckily she had stuffed the glow sticks into the front pocket. She grabbed a few and handed them off to Jackson before turning back to the leopard. There were four, one on each of them, and Jamie wondered how long they could hold out.

"Mitch, behind you," Abe called, and Jamie turned almost robotically, sure she was about to witness the man she loved being torn to shreds by the leopards. A fifth cat had snuck behind him, and Mitch twisted back and forth sharply to keep both cats back. It didn't work.

"Ha!" Jackson screamed and thrust his torch forward, causing the leopard in front of him to recoil and roar in defiance. That seemed to be a signal of sorts, and the leopard nearest Mitch began creeping forward.

A streak zipped by Jamie's head, followed by the sound of something impacting flesh and a bright flash of light. Jamie realized Abe had thrown his torch like a spear, striking the attacking cat and sending him darting into the woods away from Mitch.

And then, as though the silent prayers Jamie had been repeating rapidly in her mind had been heard, the cats began to disappear. Almost silently they slinked back into the woods, swallowed up by the darkness.

"Oh my god," Jamie breathed.

"Come on." To her astonishment, Jackson began to follow them. "Let's go."

"Go?" Mitch's voice was still trembling with fear and adrenaline. "Go where?"

"I tagged one of the leopards with a glow stick," Jackson explained. "We can track it." He walked back over to the fire and knelt down. "Where are the keys?"

"Jackson," Abe tried to reason, "Ray had the tranq gun. We don't have any weapons. We need a plan!"

"We have a plan!" Jackson stood with the keys to the Jeep. "This is it. We follow the leopards; that's our best chance." No one budged, and Jackson shook his head. "What else you wanna do?" he asked them. "Stay here and wait for them to come back? Come on!"

He grabbed his pack and slung it over his shoulder as he set off for the Jeep, leaving the others no choice but to follow. Jamie grabbed her own bag, and after a few seconds' deliberating she grabbed Ray's as well. He wouldn't be needing it any more. In the end, Abe convinced Jackson to take a few minutes to strike camp; they might need the tent for another night of camping. Luckily, it came down easier than it had gone up and Jackson was very nearly bouncing in agitation as they finally piled into the Jeep.

Jamie climbed into the back with Mitch. On the ride to the campsite they had each taken an opposite wheel well to sit on as Ray sat cross-legged in the center. Now, after Ray's death and Mitch's close encounter, Jamie didn't want him out of arm's reach. She crouched in the space between his body and the back seat, using the wall of the vehicle to hold her up as she wrapped her arm around his. She laid her forehead against his shoulder as the Jeep bounced along the rough road, and she heard his quiet whispers above the creaking shocks and worn tires. His free hand was sifting through her hair as he reassured her they were fine. It was hard to believe.

"Up ahead, on the right," Jackson cried, and Jamie looked up. "We're on the right track."

After a few more moments, Mitch let his hand fall away from her head. "Maybe somebody should say something about him," he said. "Ray." Then, because the others were looking at him funny, he shrugged. "I mean, nobody should die without words being spoken, right?"

Jamie's hold on Mitch's arm tightened, and when he looked down she smiled at him. The depth of his compassion often stunned her, especially for someone with whom he so profoundly disagreed.

Abe seemed to take up the mantle when no one else said anything. "Ray was obnoxious, loud and stubborn, but he was passionate." His eyes never left the road as he steered them toward the leopards, but his voice was rich and full of sorrow. "And he cared more about animals on this Earth than any man I've ever met." Sadly, that seemed to be all anyone could say about him. Jamie tried to think of something, but nothing came to her. Ray had cared about animals - more than his fellow man, more than his own life. In the end, the very animals he had spent his life trying to save had killed him. Jamie didn't know whether to label it ironic or tragic. Probably both.

"Looks like the trail's run out," Jackson said. "We lost him."

"Okay, team," Mitch tried to inject of bit of reasoning into what was rapidly becoming a foolish chase. "What now?"

"Let's make camp," Jackson seemed to give up the hunt as he realized tracking the leopards in the dark would likely result in all of them being killed. "We can pick up the trail when it gets light out."

They set off again when the sun rose, stopping every five minutes or so to make sure they were still on the right track. Abe had dug up some roots that he claimed worked like a chemical suppressant, and Mitch set to concocting a dose of what they all hoped was a tranquilizer as Jackson led them to the leopards.

As Mitch stirred the mixture, Jamie fought the urge to vomit. "That is the most disgusting thing I've ever smelled in my life."

"Okay." Mitch pulled a decent amount into the syringe and held it over his mouth as if to test it.

Jamie resisted the urge to slap it out of his hand. "Whoa, easy! You sure about that?"

"It's for science," he shrugged, and pushed a drop onto his tongue. It must have tasted as good as it smelled, and Jamie suppressed a smile as Mitch gagged. _Professional scientist, Mitch Morgan everybody._ When he righted himself, he smacked his lips together thoughtfully. "It tingles. Let's hope it does more than that to the leopards."

"Stop the truck," Jackson directed suddenly. "Right up there. You see those trees with the rocks? The rocks along the base?"

"Yes," Abe nodded. "Looks like their den."

Jamie watched as Jackson and Abe geared up to isolate a leopard and drug it enough to get it back to the Jeep. Where they would put it and how to keep it sedated seemed to be questions no one wanted to address just yet. Just getting one might prove to be impossible.

Jamie let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when Jackson and Abe reappeared from the brush. "Where's the leopard?" she asked as they cleared the rocks and began jogging back to the Jeep. Jackson was cradling his bag differently, and as they got closer she realized why.

"Huh," Mitch huffed at the sight of the tiny fuzzy head poking out of the bag. "Guess that works, too."

Jackson and Abe threw the doors open on either side of the Jeep. Abe started the engine as Jackson handed the pack back to Jamie. A mewling sound came from within, and Jamie shifted the bag to let the cub look around.

"Careful with him," he warned as she reached out to touch him.

"That's three," Mitch laughed. When she looked up in confusion, he gestured to the cub. "Dangerous animals you've touched." She remembered his comment back when she'd stopped to feel the bear in Paris, and she couldn't help the grin that split her face as she traced a finger over the cub's head.

"How old is he?"

"We found him in the den," Jackson explained. "The mother went out to hunt."

"Can't be more than a couple of months, then," Mitch said. "The cubs start to follow their mothers on hunts in their third or fourth month."

"That young?" Jamie looked down at the little guy and wondered how on earth he would be able to keep up with a fully grown leopard.

"Cub mortality rates are nearly fifty percent during their first year," Abe said. "They need to learn to hunt and protect themselves early."

Jamie laid her hand over the cub's back, giggling when he mewed in protest. She left him alone, lifting up the sides of the bag to keep him safely inside. "What now?"

"Now," Abe glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his eyes to the bumpy road, "we find our way home." He seemed to know where he was going because for several minutes they weren't even on a road. When they found one, it was extremely worn and bumpy but familiar. Abe was leading them back to the airfield. Jamie split her attention between the cub in her lap and the road, smiling as the inquisitive kitten began rolling around inside the bag.

"Hard to believe he'll grow up to be one of the greatest predators on the planet, huh?" Mitch peered over her arm.

"He's so tiny." She reached in the bag to pet him again, but the kitten was in play mode. He latched onto her finger and bit. "Ow!"

Mitch laughed, and she glared at him. "This is why I'm a dog person," she pulled her hand back and passed the bag to him. "Your turn."

"Uh oh," Jackson murmured as they came to a stop, and Jamie looked up to see the remnants of what looked like the bridge they'd crossed earlier this morning. Mitch zipped the bag and opened the back door. He let Jamie out first, holding her arm as she stepped onto the dry road then following her out.

Jamie stopped just behind Abe who had been kneeling to inspect what was left of their way across. "What happened to the bridge?"

"The rope's been chewed." He held it up for the others to see. "We're going to have to drive the long way around the river." He looked at Jackson hesitantly, and Jamie sensed there was something they weren't saying.

Thankfully, her friends didn't keep them in the dark long. "If we drive the long way around the river," Jackson said, "we have to drive through the Ndube Army's territory."

That didn't sound good at all. "The Ndube Army?" Jamie repeated. "I'm guessing that's not a real army, right?"

"Far from it," Jackson shook his head. "Think of an African Hell's Angels. Except instead of motorcycles and leather jackets, they have rifles and machetes."

"There is no other way," Abe sounded apologetic.

Next to her, Mitch sighed in defeat. "Of course there isn't."

Abe insisted on driving off the main roads, and slowly. It kept their engine noise to a minimum, he told them. They were less likely to be found. Jamie tried to focus on the cub and ignore the fearful pounding of her heart.

"Hey, we sure this is the best plan?" Mitch asked after almost an hour of this. "I mean maybe we should just drive fast, get the hell through here and not worry about the engine noise." His tone was tight and a little higher than usual, and Jamie recognized his own fear masked beneath the calm facade.

"No," Abe didn't take his eyes off the road this time. "We should stay quiet." Something in his tone sparked Jamie's memory, and she recalled the story he'd told her on the balcony of Chloe's apartment. She suddenly felt like an ass. Her own fear probably paled in comparison to Abe's, who had not only lived in the area for his entire life but had been conscripted as a child to an army just like this. He'd been forced to shoot his own brothers to spare them the same fate, then spent the next few years committing horrible atrocities just to stay alive. She wanted to say something, to let him know she understood, but she wasn't sure if everyone knew. Jackson probably did, but she doubted Abe had shared that particular story with Mitch.

The muted sound of a ringing phone cut through the silence, and they all looked around curiously.

"What is that?" Jackson asked.

Mitch looked around to pinpoint the source of the sound, surprised when he found it in his own bag. "It's Chloe's phone," he held the item up. "Must have left it in my pack." He handed it up to Jackson, who opened it and held it to his ear.

"Hello?" Jamie couldn't make out anything the caller was saying. "This is Jackson Oz. I'm a friend of Chloe's. Who is this?" There was a beat of silence as Jackson listened to the answer, then Jamie saw his posture deflated slightly. "She's been arrested. She's fine though, she's safe. She's...she's in FBI custody." Another moment, and he jerked up. "What do you mean? How do you know that?"

Jamie leaned forward, trying to hear more of the conversation. "What's going on?" she whispered.

Then Jackson said something that made her blood run cold. "She didn't kill that agent." Jackson said something else, but Jamie couldn't hear it over the ringing in her ears. Chloe hadn't killed that agent, but Jamie had. And now her friend was paying the price meant for her.

"What is it?" Jamie found her voice once Jackson had hung up.

"That fed, Brannigan," he glanced over his shoulder. "He was killed."

"Reiden," Jamie made the connection immediately. "It had to be Reiden."

"If that's the case," Abe added, "then what have they done with Chloe?"

No one wanted to speculate on that particular topic. Jamie could imagine some pretty horrific things, but the likelihood was they had simply disposed of her. No, Jamie amended mentally. They would need her to find out where the rest of them had gone. They had killed Brannigan to get to Chloe so she could tell them the plan. Which meant they were employing God knew what kind of tactics to get that information. Jamie felt sick.

"We have to stay positive," Mitch said quietly. Jamie recognized her own words from earlier and gave him a half-hearted glare.

"Reiden has Chloe," Jamie said. "And they're using her to find out where we are."

"Chloe is strong," Mitch sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as the others. "We have to believe she is doing everything she can to make sure we succeed. So let's get this little guy back to the plane and make that cure."

"Can you do it on the plane?" Abe asked.

"I think so," Mitch patted the bag underneath his legs. "As long as this thing still works after dragging it all over kingdom come."

"Then let's get to that plane. With luck, we will be there before dark."

The sun was still high overhead when their luck ran out. Abe took a corner and immediately slammed the brakes as a jeep filled to capacity with armed militants bore down on them. Abe threw their car into reverse, but they were already being boxed in. The second truck held half a dozen men armed with machine guns, and as they forced their prey to stop they fired their weapons in the air. Jamie reacted to the sound violently, throwing herself forward behind the seat and squeezing her eyes closed. She felt Mitch above her, his body leaning over hers as he kept his head up to see what was happening.

"Oh God," she whispered. This is what Jackson had warned them about, the Ndube Army. She sat up as Abe looked at Jackson briefly before stepping out to address their leader.

They spoke back and forth rapidly, Abe's body language conciliatory and submissive. The nearest soldier brandished a machete at Abe as the man in charge pointed angrily.

"What are they saying?" Jamie kept her voice low but didn't take her eyes off what was happening.

"I have no idea," Jackson admitted. Suddenly, the man with the machete lunged forward to grab Abe and Jackson was out of the car in an instant.

"Jackson!"

"No, no," he stepped out with his hands up. "Don't hurt him, alright? Take me. Take me, don't hurt him."

Abe said something, but it was too quiet for Jamie to hear from inside the car. She looked at Mitch helplessly. "What do we do?" she asked him. "We have no guns, we have no money, we have nothing."

"We have him," Mitch nodded down towards the cub.

"What are we gonna do," Jamie scoffed. "Sic a kitten on them?"

"The needle on Abe's spear," he whispered. "Hand it to me." She pulled the syringe off of the pole and passed it to him, moving back a little to give him room to work. She watched as he quickly stuck the cub, causing it to cry out in pain. It continued for a few seconds, it's mewl loud in the small space. She realized immediately what he was doing, and she smiled proudly.

She took a breath to praise his idea, but it was stolen from her lungs as the rear doors opened and rough arms grabbed her.

"What are you doing?" she heard Mitch's voice as she screamed and struggled against the men pulling her from the truck. "No, no, no, Jamie!"

White hot terror shot through her as she was dragged away from her friends. She reached for Mitch instinctively as he surged forward to help her. One of the men turned his weapon around and viciously rammed the butt of it into Mitch's stomach, driving him back and causing him to double over in pain. The sight of it made her fight harder, but the man holding her was stronger.

He dumped her unceremoniously on the dirt, but Jamie scrambled to her feet quickly and held her hands up. Six or seven men surrounded her, all armed and leering at her like a piece of meat. Her entire body was shaking from fear and adrenaline, and though she couldn't understand anything they were saying, their intentions were crystal clear.

Over their shoulders, she saw that Abe and Jackson had been herded into the back of the Jeep with Mitch. Their heads were bent in conversation, and she prayed they were figuring out how to get out of here. If Mitch's plan worked, the leopards would hear the cub's cries and arrive to find a veritable feast awaiting them. The trick would be getting back to the vehicle without getting killed, but Jamie preferred those chances to the ones she faced now.

One of the men caressed her arm, and she whirled toward him with a sneer. He just laughed, reaching up to rub the ends of her hair between his fingers. The others joined in his amusement, and Jamie felt another hand press against her hip. Someone gave a signal, and the other men began to get back into their cars. She closed her eyes and felt a tear slip down her cheek as helplessness devoured what remained of her hope. Mitch's plan had failed.

A low growl from her left startled her, and she looked over just in time to see a young man go down under the spotted mass above him. Instantly the atmosphere changed, and the men surrounding her broke apart and began firing at the small group of leopards that had materialized out of nowhere.

She didn't waste the opportunity. Her feet carried her to their jeep, where Abe and Jackson had just burst from the back.

"Jamie! Come on." Jackson reached for her as Abe made for the driver's seat. She felt Jackson pull her violently toward the car, and her hand was immediately engulfed by Mitch's larger one as he hauled her into the cargo area. Screams of pain erupted from all around them, punctuated by gunfire as the armed men tried futilely to fend off the leopard attack. Abe tossed the man from the driver's seat just as Jackson slammed his door closed. Jamie's body was still shaking as Mitch pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"It's okay," he whispered into her hair. "You're okay. You're safe. I've got you." Jamie very nearly crawled up into his lap and dug her fingers into his back as Abe started the engine.

"Go!" Jackson was in, and Abe gunned the gas. They were off like a shot, leaving a bloody massacre behind them.

"It worked," Mitch said, his tone both surprised and grateful.

Jamie hugged him harder in thanks. Her breathing evened out as the adrenaline drained from her body, and he pushed her back to roam a critical eye over her. "I'm okay," she affirmed. "They didn't hurt me."

They bounced and swayed as Abe sped away, heedless of terrain. He wanted to put as much distance between the leopards and them as possible, and Jamie didn't mind. She looked back, but the cloud of dust behind them obscured her vision. Mitch grabbed her hand, and she could feel the tension in his grip as she looked up at him. In his eyes she read all she needed to know about his mindset; he was blaming himself for not being able to protect her. Regret and contrition warred for dominance and she knew she had to say something.

"That was great what you did back there," she told him.

"What?" He seemed genuinely confused by her praise.

"What you did with the cub," she explained. Had he forgotten already? Or was the guilt overwhelming everything else?

"What are you talking about?" Abe asked.

"Mitch stuck the cub with a needle," she said. If he wasn't going to give himself credit for saving their lives, then she'd do it for him. "His pain sent a distress signal. It was just like the lions in L.A. - they communicate over long distance."

"Oh, that was you!" Abe sounded impressed, but Mitch just shrugged.

"I just put their newfound mutation to good use."

"This little guy saved our lives," Jamie looked down at the cub as he mewled pathetically.

"We did it, _rafiki_ ," Abe glanced over at Jackson. "Ah, man, you saved my life. I think…" he trailed off suddenly, and Jamie looked up in time to see Jackson's head loll to one side. "What...what happened?"

"It's okay," Jackson said, but it was weak. Abe asked again as Jamie scooted up to see over the back of the seat. Jackson was holding his right hand over his stomach, and as he moved it she saw the sticky red blood that coated his fingers.

"Oh my God! Jackson you've been shot!" Panic made her voice rise in pitch, and that seemed to be enough to snap Mitch out of whatever funk he'd fallen into. He stripped off his outer shirt and moved closer as his training took over.

"Let me see, let me see," he leaned over.

"I'm fine," Jackson said, though none of them believed it.

"Alright, here," he balled up his shirt and pressed it into the wound, reaching over Jackson's shoulder to help him. "Keep that over the wound. Press down, press down," he directed. Mitch looked at Abe, who obviously knew the area better than they did. "We gotta get him to a hospital."

Abe nodded and glanced over at his friend, who was looking paler by the second. "Hold on, _rafiki_ ," he said. "Hold on." He pressed down on the gas pedal, moving them faster down the dirt road they had found. Jamie hoped it led somewhere good. "You're going to make it, _rafiki_." It sounded urgent, like a prayer, and he repeated it a few times for good measure.

Jamie could tell from the look on Mitch's face that the bullet was in a bad place; they needed to find help sooner rather than later. At her feet the leopard cub mewled again, and she reached down to stoke the soft fur behind his head. She closed her eyes and added her prayer to Abe's.

 _Please don't let him die._


	12. Wild Things - Heart Song

Thanks to my Tumblr friend _kateschechterxthorwasmyfirstotp_ for the bit of inspiration during the infamous hospital scene. And, as always, thank you to those of you who have stayed with me on this wild ride. Your encouragement is valued far more than I can say, and I am looking forward to season 2!

* * *

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 12: Wild Things - Heart Song

 _Jackson's life hangs in the balance as Mitch and Jamie race to create the cure for the animal mutation. A Jamie/Mitch rewrite_

* * *

"How far is the hospital?" Mitch peered worriedly over the front seat at the seeping bullet hole in Jackson's abdomen. He'd seen only a few wounds like that in his short stint in medicine; none of them had ended well.

"The nearest one is in Harare," Abe's voice was as tight as his grip on the steering wheel as he split his attention between his best friend and the road. "It's at least two hours away."

"Okay," Mitch ran some mental calculations. "He needs to lie down. Pull over and let's get him into the back. I'll drive."

"Is that a good idea?" Jamie sounded just as worried as Abe had. "If he needs medical attention, you should be back here with him."

"Abe can keep him talking," Mitch answered. "I can't do anything that would help him at this point other than lie him down and put pressure on the bleeding."

Abe reluctantly slowed to a stop, and Mitch jumped out of the back with Jamie close behind. It took all three of them to move Jackson from the passenger seat to the cargo area. When he was finally situated, Mitch took over driving as Jamie grabbed the map from Ray's bag.

"What road are we on, Abe?" she asked, unfolding the map to get a better view.

"Just keep heading south," Abe said. "This will take us into the city."

It took a moment to adjust being on the wrong side of the car, but his analytical mind worked through the processes quickly and his body adjusted accordingly. "Alright, just keep pressure on that wound." Mitch shifted into first gear with his left hand and eased them back onto the road.

He had never been a devout man, always preferring the tangible, constant sureness that science offered. Things in this world could be measured, touched, seen, heard; blind belief in a greater power that controlled all of these things just wasn't something he could get behind. But as they sped along a road simply labeled "A1" on the map toward a city that may or may not offer some sort of respite, Mitch found himself pleading with the universe or God or whatever might be listening to let his friend live.

For the next fifty miles, the only sounds in the car were Jackson's ragged breaths and Abe's quiet pleas to _just hang on a little longer_. As it was wont to do whenever he had time on his hands, Mitch's mind began to wander. His life had changed so drastically in just three short months, going from an anti-social veterinarian and part-time teacher to a man who had friends willing to put their lives in his hands. He'd performed surgery without anesthetic on a man he really didn't like, blackmailed a global corporation into giving him experimental drugs to save his daughter's life, and fallen in love with a crusading journalist turned federal fugitive. It all sounded like something out a spy novel. Sometimes, when the others weren't looking, he'd pinch himself just to make sure it was all real.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Jamie fidgeting with her fingers. Sure that he wasn't going to downshift any time soon, he reached over with his left hand and covered both of hers. She responded immediately, moving one of her hands to cover his as the other intertwined their fingers. She held on tightly, squeezing every so often as she fought to maintain her composure.

"How's he doing?" Mitch asked over his shoulder.

"His breathing is shallow," Abe said, "but he is not struggling."

"It's probably just the pain. Can you see where the bullet hole is?" There was some shuffling, then a hiss of pain from Jackson as Abe replaced Mitch's now-ruined shirt to sop up more of the blood.

"It is on his right side, about halfway between his ribs and his hip bone."

"Okay, it probably missed his liver, but his intestine is likely ruptured. How much is it bleeding?"

"Not as much as I thought it would be," Abe sounded hopeful.

"Sounds like it missed major arteries, too. He might have gotten lucky."

"Lucky would have been not getting shot in the first place," Abe snapped. Mitch didn't take it personally. "Hang on, _rafiki_."

They traveled a few more minutes in silence before the universe decided things weren't difficult enough. A loud bang startled all of them, and Jamie clenched his hand so tightly he winced.

"What was that?" she cried.

Mitch checked his mirrors and gritted his teeth. A flock of birds was following them, and from the feather stuck to the outside of his door he guessed one of them had dive bombed the car. When he said as much, the others balked.

"Why would they attack a moving vehicle?" Abe asked.

The answer came in the form of a quiet growl from the bag at Abe's feet. Mitch had forgotten all about the leopard cub in the aftermath of their brush with death. Clearly, the animals were not happy about its kidnapping.

"You think they're after the cub?" Jamie whispered, obviously following his thought process despite not having said a word.

"Makes sense," Mitch shrugged his right shoulder. "Remember how we theorized the birds had developed a common language? What if they finally figured out a way to communicate with other animals, too?"

"And, what," Jamie continued his thought with more than a hint of incredulity in her voice, "the leopards sent birds to find their cub to keep us from making the cure that will keep them from taking over the planet?"

"Sounds crazy when you say it like that," Mitch drawled. He shot her a sideways smirk that lasted two seconds before he sobered up. "I don't think it has anything to do with the cure. I'm not sure the animals can understand that. But leopards do have strong maternal instincts, and that cub's mom will be looking for it."

"Well, unless leopards have developed super speed or teleportation, we'll get to Harare before they catch us."

"Don't joke," Mitch warned her, only half-teasingly. There was still so much unknown about the mutations and the effect they were having on the animal kingdom. Mitch had a feeling they had only seen the tip of the iceberg.

Another half hour passed, and another wave of birds crashed into the vehicle. It was no less jarring the second time, and Mitch had to let go of Jamie's hand before she broke something. She turned halfway in her seat to check on Jackson.

"He's really pale," she whispered, though everyone could hear her.

"It's the blood loss," Mitch tried to sound reassuring. "How far away are we?"

Jamie turned back and checked the map. "Looks like we're ten miles from the hospital."

"How's he doing?" He glanced in the rearview at the worried expression on Abe's face.

"Not so good." he answered without looking up from his friend.

Another bird slammed into car, hitting Jamie's window. It held, but she jumped. "That's the third one in an hour."

Mitch lifted his eyes from the road to the swirling black mass that was gathering in the distance. It ebbed and flowed like it was a living creature itself, rather than a formation of them. His scientific mind supplied the term for it automatically. _Murmuration._ "Yeah, that's the same pattern we saw when we were in Boston," he said.

"We're close, my friend," Abe's voice was soft and soothing as he tried to keep his composure. It didn't last long. "The blood," his tone rose slightly in panic. "The blood is coming through the shirt."

"Keep pressure on it," Mitch pressed a little harder on the gas pedal as if following his own advice. "Nice and even. Don't let him pass out."

"Maybe we should pull over," Jamie suggested, but Mitch shook his head.

"Lot of things I can handle in a pinch," he told her. "The kind of surgery he needs? Not one of them."

Jamie's estimate turned out to be a little long. They reached the city limits of Harare shortly after the last bird attack, but Mitch had to slow down to keep from running over the throng of people fleeing the other direction.

"What's going on?" Jamie asked. "Where are they going?"

"Everybody's leaving town," Mitch edged over as far as he could to let the trucks and carts pass while still maintaining a decent speed. The mass exodus didn't bode well, but Jackson didn't have a choice. He needed a hospital now.

Mitch screeched to a halt just outside the ER doors. He jumped out and moved to help Abe with Jackson as Jamie cradled the cub.

"Grab the electroporator," he tossed over his shoulder as he took Jackson's weight for a moment. Abe shifted to support his uninjured side as Jamie gasped behind them.

"Oh, my God. That's why they're all leaving." Bodies were strewn through the courtyard, and beyond that into the streets. Crocodiles were patrolling, their mouths opened menacingly as they stared down the newcomers. A growl above them drew their attention to a roof across the street, and they all looked up at the lion prowling back and forth. It was surreal, and suddenly Mitch's spy thriller turned into a survival horror.

"We need to get inside now," Mitch told them. He dashed to the doors and pulled hard on the handle. Locked. He tried another as Abe pounded on the glass.

"Open the door! It's an emergency. My friend needs a doctor!"

A man in a white coat saw them, and Mitch noticed his hesitation as he neared the door. He held a shotgun in his hand, his eyes darting over their shoulders to the carnage behind them. After a moment, he pushed the door open just enough to warn them.

"The hospital's closed."

But Abe had had enough. He yanked the door open and dragged Jackson inside. Mitch reached behind him and ushered Jamie through first before closing the door firmly behind him. Patients and staff alike were running scared, screams and cries echoing through the halls. Abe laid Jackson on a nearby gurney as the doctor followed them frantically.

"Did you hear what I said?" he urged. "We are abandoning the hospital. You have to go elsewhere."

"We don't have time," Mitch argued, putting an edge into his voice he hadn't used since his time in med school. "This man's been shot."

The doctor glanced down at the blood coating Jackson's shirt, then frowned. "I can't help him." He sounded genuinely sorry for the fact. "I suggest you drive him to Nyanga."

"That's four hours at least!" Abe protested. Mitch agreed; Jackson didn't have that kind of time.

"I have lost a dozen colleagues and more patients than I can count," the doctor told them. "I am sorry, but I cannot help you."

"You will help him!" It was the first time Mitch had ever heard Abe yell, and the ferocity in his eyes was terrifying to behold. "You understand me? You will help!"

The doctor's answer came as he raised his gun and leveled it at Abe. Mitch saw Jamie flinch and take a step back. He panicked and dove behind the gurney as the doctor squeezed the trigger.

The shot zipped past Abe and ricocheted off the pillar behind him. Mitch turned in time to see a leopard dart away. The doctor lowered his weapon and turned to make sure the patients behind him had made it to safety. He seemed to be debating something internally, and when he turned back to them he'd come to a decision.

"The last ambulance leaves in an hour. I will do the surgery, but beyond that you are on your own."

"Thank you," Abe breathed. The doctor moved to the rear of the gurney and began pushing him toward a side hallway. The sign above the archway listed the departments beyond it; surgery was fourth on the list. Abe followed the gurney silently as Mitch turned to Jamie.

"He's gonna be fine," he stepped close, rubbing her shoulder reassuringly. At least he hoped to offer her some comfort. Her eyes were wide with fear, and he could hear how her breaths came in short gasps. "Hey, I need you to breathe. It's gonna be okay. We're going to be fine."

She leaned into his touch and clutched the bag with the cub just a little tighter. "They're inside."

"Jamie," he ducked his head slightly to catch her eyes, "we need to get moving. The doctor said the last ambulance leaves in an hour. We need to be done by then."

"Okay." She took a deep breath then, squaring her shoulders with a quick nod.

Mitch squeezed her arm once more before glancing around. "We need to find a map." He gestured behind her and began running toward a large set of windows. A giant map of the hospital sat just in front of them, complete with the small red dot that read _You Are Here_. "The hematology lab should have what we need to extract this little guy's stem cells, formulate a cure."

"Hurry, Mitch," she kept close enough to brush against him as he scanned the map for his target. "He's getting scared."

 _He's not the only one_. Running around the hospital with wild animals lurking outside was worrisome enough. Knowing that some of them were inside with them was downright terrifying. "There," he tapped the plastic sheet with two fingers. "Third floor."

They turned and began running for the elevators. Abe met them halfway with a question in his eyes and the shotgun in hand. Mitch directed him to follow, and they were all on edge as they waited for the car to descend. Once inside, all three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

"How long will it take you?" Abe asked as he watched the numbers tick up to three.

"I have no idea," Mitch answered honestly. "I haven't really ever done anything like this. I have no basis for comparison." The elevator dinged and the doors opened revealing a bloody scene.

Abe's grip on the shotgun tightened as he moved slowly into the hallway. "Stay behind me."

Mitch pushed Jamie out next, putting her between him and Abe in case an attack came from the back. They crept down the hall as silently as possible, only stopping when they came upon a body. Jamie immediately averted her eyes as Mitch surveyed the damage. The foot had been completely taken off and was lying some distance away.

"Look," Abe pointed out. "The teeth went straight through the bone. That means leopards."

A low growl echoed down the hallway. Mitch felt every muscle in body tense in response to the threat of imminent death.

"Which way is Hematology?" Jamie knew the answer, but her tone told Mitch she was hoping to be wrong.

He swallowed around the fear in his throat long enough to give her an answering nod. "That way."

Miraculously, they made it to the lab with no leopard attack. As Mitch set the cub working on a chew toy, Abe volunteered to go find a domesticated animal to test the cure on.

"What? No, Abe." Jamie started forward, then stopped. Mitch knew she understood why he had to go, but it made it no less difficult to watch him leave. He promised to be back soon and made sure they locked the door behind him. Jamie stood staring at the closed door for a moment more.

"This is insane," she whispered. Mitch racked his brain for a distraction, something to keep her attention off the fact that one of her friends was on a surgery table and another was headed outside alone with only a single shotgun for backup. His eyes fell on the black bag sitting on the work table.

"So we carted thing thing halfway around the world," he grabbed the strap and turned it around as he unzipped it. "About time we used it."

It worked. She turned from the door and moved to stand beside him. "This thing has to work...for any good to come out of all of this." From the corner of his eye he saw her shake her head and drop her chin slightly. "I know it's selfish, but ever since my mom died this has been my life. This is literally my last chance to finally get justice and make Reiden pay for what they did."

"So, no pressure then." He meant it as a joke, but from the horrified expression on her face he'd failed. "Listen," he swiveled his stool to face her, "there's no reason to think this won't work. The science is sound and we have what we need. But in case it doesn't," he reached out for her hand and held it firmly, "I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. If this doesn't work, we'll find another way."

He was rewarded with a teary smile, one that seemed to light up her whole face. She gripped his fingers gratefully, her eyes saying everything she couldn't seem to get past her lips.

Finally she stepped back and wiped her eyes, indicating the spread of scientific equipment in front him. "Let's get to work, then." Mitch pulled out the two pieces of the electroporator, handing a cord to Jamie as he set them where he could get to them quickly. She plugged it in and went to check on the cub as he was calibrating.

"Oh my God. Mitch, here's a tooth."

"You're kidding me, already?" He'd expected it to take longer. He took it as a sign that things were looking up. He took the rubber heart from her and grabbed a pair of forceps from a drawer. "Bet you never thought we'd be saving the world with a tooth and a rubber heart." She laughed - quietly, but a laugh nonetheless. Mitch took that as a good sign, too.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked as he began grinding the tooth in a bowl.

"No," he shook his head. "This process has to be completely sterile for it to be viable. The less hands involved the better."

"How long do you think it will take Abe to find an animal?" Her natural inquisitiveness turned into nervous rambling in times of stress - he knew that - but it didn't make it any less distracting. He pressed his lips together to keep from snapping at her, concentrating on transferring what he needed to a slide. He had to make sure there were usable stem cells before they started this whole process; if not they would need another tooth. He heard her inhale to ask another question, and finally his patience waned.

"Jamie, I need to concentrate here," he tried to keep his tone as even as possible. "Abe will be fine. Jackson will be fine. _We_ will be fine. But if I make a mistake, if one little thing goes wrong, the cure will not work." The pressure of that statement washed over him as he said the words. He'd known there was a lot riding on this plan - she'd all but said as much - but the fact of the matter was it was really all riding on him. He was the only one who could do this; it's why he was on the team in the first place.

"Okay," she whispered. She kept her distance, watching as he set up the slide with the precision of years of practice. He let out a breath when it was finished and grabbed the microscope. He could feel her eyes on him as he put the slide under the lens, and as he inspected his work she came a little closer.

For a moment he feared it hadn't worked - that the tooth had been no good - but then he saw what he needed. He sighed in relief and leaned back. "Good news is we got some viable stem cells here. So our little friend has done his part."

As if on cue, the cub began mewling. "He's crying so much," Jamie moved over to the small creature, grabbing him before he could make a leap for the table. "You don't think it's a call do you?"

"Why don't you try closing the bag?" Then, because that had come out a little harsher than he'd intended, he continued. "Maybe he shares my aversion to hospitals."

"Is that why you dropped out of med school?" She gently placed the cub back in the bag and pulled the zipper closed. He cried a bit more and rolled around inside as Jamie stepped away from the table and closer to Mitch.

"No," Mitch grabbed the rest of the tooth's remnants and began preparations for the cure. He'd already ground up what he needed from the Mother Cell, now he just needed to combine them. "I never liked hospitals. But I think it was the patients that finally did me in." She looked at him curiously, and he could see the question she wanted to ask. "Will you hand me one of those cuvettes over there?" he pointed to a tray of empty tubes on the far side of the room.

"Which one?"

"The square tube with the lid on it," he directed, and she plucked one from its place and handed it to him. "I didn't hate the patients," he forced himself to keep talking as he worked. It went against his usual method, but it seemed to be putting her at ease. And, he told himself, he was good enough to multitask. At least he hoped so. "I just hated their pain. Their tears. Their family's tears." He paused as he measured precise parts into the tube and mixed them. "You shut down your emotions for long enough, you don't want to spend all day with somebody else's."

"Does it bother you when I talk about my mother?"

Mitch thought back to that night he'd taken her to Tom Bergin's after his class. She'd surprised him by accepting his invitation, then surprised him further by opening up about her hometown and her mother's cancer. He'd been unusually receptive, listening to her and sympathizing in a way he'd never done with anyone else.

"No," he told her honestly. "From the moment I met you, Jamie, you've been the exception." He smiled at their own little private joke, and she returned it. "Before you came along, I could count on one hand the number of people who gave a damn about me, that I actually cared about. I spent my days at the zoo and my nights at the college and that was it. I was surviving, but I wasn't living."

He placed his glasses back on his face as he stood to move to the electroporator. He inserted the cuvette and pressed a few buttons. When he looked back up, she had an odd look on her face. He was terrible with emotions, most especially his own, and he hoped he hadn't said anything wrong. She was shuffling closer but remained silent, her face still unreadable. He began to panic.

"Jamie, I'm...I'm not really great when it comes to stuff like this. Honestly, it's one of the main reasons things never worked out between me and Audra. She always wanted me to talk about my feelings, and I always wanted her to stop talking about hers. But there is something I want to say, and I better say it now before it all goes south."

"Shut up," she closed the remaining distance between them quickly, kissing him before he could get another word out. There was something different about this kiss, something primal and deep that made Mitch respond immediately. He tugged her forward, settling her between his legs as she very nearly devoured him. Her hands were everywhere, traveling the expanse between his shoulders, then around to his chest before sliding up through his hair. He kept pace with her but didn't press further, letting her maintain control.

When he'd been thoroughly kissed she pulled away a few inches and sucked in a deep breath. "Thank you," she whispered against his lips. Her forehead rested against his, and he could feel every rough exhale puff against his cheek.

"Mmm," he forced his eyes open but hers were still closed. "I was going to say that."

That opened them, and she put a little more distance between them but didn't release the hold she had of his shoulders. "Why?"

"For dragging me into this insanity," he told her half-jokingly. Then, a bit more seriously, "For giving me the courage to save my daughter. And for reminding me that it's okay to feel. And look," he shifted his hands to frame her hips, pushing her just a bit further to look into her eyes, "I know you couldn't save your mother, but the truth is...you kind of saved me."

He felt her hand lift from his shoulder and settle against the side of his face. Her thumb traced the curve of his cheek bone and he fought the urge to close his eyes under her ministrations. Her eyes were darting back and forth, like she was trying to memorize his face through the tears that had gathered there. Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his forehead tenderly.

"You saved me, too," she said when she moved back. "You were the first person in...in a _long_ , long time to really listen to me. To believe me. All my life people have been telling me how crazy I was, how useless it was to fight something as big as Reiden. I'd heard them for so long that I'd started to actually believe them. You gave me the best gift I have ever received: faith in myself."

Mitch was speechless. He was sure if he could form a coherent sentence his brain would supply some snarky comment about it being a once in a lifetime moment. Instead he gaped idiotically as she lifted her other hand to his face and leaned in for another kiss. They were interrupted by the machine next to them, a high pitched beep alerting them that it had completed its task. Jamie kissed him once more, a quick promise of more to come, and stepped back.

"Alright," Mitch carefully pulled the cuvette from the electroporator and snapped the lid closed. "Well, here we go. This is it." He held it up to the light, then out for her inspection. "Hope to God we were right."

She smiled, her eyes suddenly alight with excitement. She dashed for the door, her fears of failure forgotten. "I have to find Jackson."

He realized what she was doing a split second too late. She opened the door eagerly and came face to face with a leopard. All thoughts of the cure and saving the world vanished as Mitch gazed at the distance between him and Jamie. If his hand hadn't already been clamped around the cure, he'd likely have forgotten it in his scramble to reach for her, to put himself between her and the deadly predator. Thankfully she instinctively leapt towards him, close enough that he could reach out and grab her arm. She'd probably have a bruise later from the force with which he hauled her bodily backward and behind him. The leopard crept closer, its eyes alert and zeroed in on its prey. Mitch slowly backed up, feeling Jamie at his back as he took one step, then another. The leopard kept coming.

Later, Mitch would make a mental note to personally thank whoever had designed that lab. With the workstation in the middle, Mitch was able to carefully maneuver them around the island toward the door. As he moved, he searched desperately for something, anything that could be used as a weapon. Unfortunately hospital labs were woefully short on anything larger than an aspirating needle.

They were almost to the door. A few more steps and Jamie would be in the hall. Mitch debated shoving her through, taking the attack to give her enough time to get away. He could send the cure with her, give her a chance along with the rest of the world. But even as he worked through it, he knew it wouldn't work. The leopards weren't attacking to eat; they were attacking to kill. It would likely just take him down then go after her. He needed a distraction, something to stop the attack before it happened.

His eyes fell on the fire alarm just to his right. The leopard gathered itself up, the muscles in its hind legs coiling to pounce. They were out of time. Mitch reached out blindly, ripping the plastic cover off even as Jamie protested.

"Wait, Mitch, the Mother Cell." What was left of it sat in a petri dish on the table. There was no way to get to it.

"Forget it. Let's go!" He pulled the handle, hoping this hospital had the same fire countermeasures as other hospitals he'd been in. The shrill bell was deafening as white fog came pouring from the ceiling. Mitch turned and pushed Jamie, who had at least had the sense to grab the pack with the cub as she passed. He could hear the leopard on their heels, but the fire alarm had given them just enough of a head start. Mitch slammed the door closed behind them as Abe came running up the corridor.

"What's happened?"

"The leopards, they came after the cub," Mitch told him. "And, call me crazy," he shot a look at Jamie, "but that's gotta be what the birds were doing, too."

She ignored his jab. "Abe, we lost the Mother Cell."

"And the cure?" Abe glanced down at the small container in Mitch's hand. He'd managed to slip the cuvette into a hard shell case not much bigger than the one he had back home for his glasses.

"This is it," Mitch held it up. "It's all we got. One shot, maybe two."

"I found a dog," he told them. "I put him one of the patient rooms."

"If this doesn't work…" Jamie trailed off.

Abe shrugged one shoulder. "Only one way to find out."

But it did work. No one was more surprised than Mitch when, after a second exposure orally rather than injected into its haunches, the dog whined and sat down obediently. Taking a risk, albeit a calculated and small one, Mitch knelt down and reached for the dog's head. He whined again, a single thump from his tail the only indication of his mood. Mitch settled his fingers under his neck, scratching lightly at first. When he didn't lose a finger, his touch became more confident. Mitch sighed in relief as he continued to pet the touch-starved dog.

"Good boy," he whispered. "Good boy." The dog seemed as happy as they were. Mitch wondered if domesticated animals like dogs knew something was wrong, knew they weren't supposed to be behaving like they were, but couldn't help it. It was an interesting theory, but one he would need to think about later. "You better find Jackson," he glanced back at Abe. "We gotta get this stuff home."

The cure worked. It was the best news Mitch had gotten in a long time, trailed in a very close second by the call they'd gotten from Chloe. She was safe in Washington. Jamie hadn't elaborated much on her phone call past that, but Mitch didn't care. Things were finally working out, and there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

"I will go get Jackson," Abe said. "You two find us a way out of this hospital."

"What about him?" Jamie had come over to pet the pup, her fingers sifting through his dark fur happily.

"I will come get him after I get Jackson. I promised his owner I would either save him and return him, or shoot him myself."

Jamie stood with a smile. "Well, I'm glad this story has a happy ending."

Mitch tucked what was left of the cure back into the case. "We need to go." Jamie moved to grab the cub again, but Mitch stopped her. "I'll get him. You've been carrying him the whole time." He offered her the small case and gathered the duffel in his arms. Jamie led the way through the corridors to the elevators as Abe veered off the other direction in search of Jackson.

With the ambulances already gone, their best bet for leaving the hospital was the way they had come in. Mitch guessed their jeep was probably still sitting right where he'd parked it. Next to him, Jamie was very nearly vibrating with pent up energy - no doubt a combination of excitement over the cure and fear for their lives. The moment the doors slid open on the ground floor they were out like a shot.

"We gotta get out of here," Mitch followed her down the hall, his strides only slightly hindered by the bundle in his arms.

"The lobby's this way," she directed, falling slightly behind him as they rounded the last corner.

He saw it first, and instinct caused him to freeze in his tracks. Jamie's momentum carried her a step past him, but the loud growl from the leopard at the front door made her jump back. Mitch turned, silently indicating they should go back the other way. A second leopard stepped out from the hallway they'd just come from, trapping them and causing them to huddle together in the center of the hall.

"Oh my God," Jamie breathed.

Mitch stepped closer, staying sideways to keep both animals in his peripheral without staring at them directly. He saw Jamie shift her weight back and forth, and he pitched his voice low in warning. "Don't move."

"Do we run?" she asked, glancing back and forth. The leopards were creeping closer, closing off any avenue of escape.

"No," he closed his eyes briefly, frantically trying to come up with a way out. "If we do, they'll take us down."

The truth was, there was no way out. Mitch thought about letting the cub go; it might be enough of a distraction that he could at least get Jamie to the elevators. But there wasn't enough time.

 _Not enough time._ It was a cruel truth that had a far deeper meaning than their impending deaths. He'd only known Jamie for three months, loved her for less than that. It wasn't enough. If he'd lived a hundred years he still would feel the same, but for fate to throw them together and have it end like this was just cruel. He forced himself to ignore the threats surrounding them, to make himself look at her. If they died, he wanted her face to be the last thing he saw.

 _I never told her I love her._ The thought flashed viciously through his mind and for a moment he thought the leopards had finally pounced. But the pain in his chest came from within, his regret multiplying tenfold as he realized he'd never said the words. Mitch remembered her confession, replayed that moment over and over in head a million times a day. His answer had been cowardly, a simple _me, too_ when she'd bravely laid her heart bare. He tried to force the words out now, to utter them in the silence that seemed to stretch on. But they wouldn't come. _She knows_ , he told himself. It was a hollow consolation.

Her soft touch was like a whisper on his skin. Her fingers curled into his and he held on, trying to tell her through their connection what he couldn't seem to say out loud. Her grip was like a vice but he didn't care. His last moments in this life would be with her, and anything he could do to lessen the terror in her eyes would be worth breaking every bone in his body.

Suddenly the tension snapped, but it didn't come in the form of a leaping predator. Glass shattered and instinct made him duck, taking her with him and covering her smaller body with his own. He expected an angry roar but heard only a faint hiss, then the sound of boots.

"Tranq em!" Another hiss, then a soft thud as the dart hit its mark. "Secure!"

Mitch dared a glance up, not quite sure he was really seeing what was going on. A dozen or so men decked in full military garb were moving purposefully toward them. One stopped and crouched next to them, laying a hand on Jamie's back.

"Unit two secure!"

Another voice answered from the door. "Extract! Lock it down!"

Jamie looked up, her eyes still wide and fearful. "What's happening?"

"Looks like the cavalry's here," Mitch said. The man who'd come to them began ushering them up and out. Mitch kept hold of Jamie's hand as they were escorted out the front doors and into the streets. The courtyard had been cleared of bodies, and Mitch couldn't see any animals around. Large military vehicles dotted the area, accompanied by what was left of the local police force and almost thirty men dashing off in various directions.

Mitch's brain asked a dozen questions at once. He settled on the most pressing. "Not that we're not incredibly grateful," he followed their rescuer to a set of trucks sitting near the door, "but where did you guys come from?"

"We're the 74th Special Tactics Squadron," the man answered tersely. The stripes on his sleeve probably signified his rank, but Mitch was clueless when it came to anything military related. He settled mentally on sergeant. "Our orders are to get you out of here."

"Okay, listen, there were two others with us," he adjusted the bundle in his arms as they walked away from the hospital toward safety. "They're still -"

"Look, Jackson!" Jamie interrupted, pointing to a spot a little further up. Mitch followed her finger and found Abe and Jackson walking toward them with the cured dog.

Mitch was overcome with the urge to hug both of them. The feeling startled him and he settled for a relieved smile. "You look like hell."

Jackson laughed slightly, still clutching his right side. "Thanks." He looked past his friends to the man escorting them. "Listen, up there with me there were three kids."

"Already on their way to Nyanga," he answered. "We'll track down their parents."

"How'd you know we were here?" Jackson asked.

"All I'm authorized to say is your location was provided by a French national." _Chloe._ She'd saved them. Mitch shared a knowing smile with his friends, noting how Jackson's pain seemed to disappear for a moment. "We're gonna get you to Johannesburg and from there on a flight to D.C."

"I made a promise," Abe spoke up for the first time. "Can you spare two men to take him back home?" He lifted the chain in his hands that led to the dog sitting quietly at his side.

"You serious?" the sergeant glanced hesitantly at the animal.

"Yeah."

The soldier sighed and reached out for the chain. Mitch noticed how he kept his body back despite the layers of armor he was wearing. It would have been funny if the meaning behind it wasn't so tragic. They needed to get this cure home now.

"Let's move." They followed the man to a pair of trucks already running. Each had a driver and a passenger armed with a rather large rifle, both sporting full body armor and dour expressions.

"Lends new meaning to the word 'shotgun,'" Mitch joked.

"It's the original meaning, actually," Jamie corrected. At Mitch's look, she just shrugged and pulled open the back door. "I'm a journalist; I know weird stuff."

Mitch made to follow her, but was stopped by two men. For a moment he feared they were being split up, separated to be debriefed or whatever the hell it was that the military did after something horrific happened. He squared his shoulders, ready to resist tooth and nail. There was no way in hell he was leaving his friends alone.

"Sir, we need that bag," one of them said.

Mitch shook his head once and lifted his chin. "No, this stays with me. You have no idea how important this little guy is."

"We have our orders, sir," the other said. Mitch guessed he wasn't a day over twenty. "He's to be put in a secure crate and escorted back to the states by…" He trailed off, digging into a small pocket on his vest for the notepad there. He consulted a page and nodded. "Mitch Morgan?"

"That's me," Mitch used his free hand to wave. Chloe must have pulled some major strings.

The soldier nodded and stuffed the notepad back into its pocket. "We have the crate ready." He turned slightly to reveal a small brown crate behind him. It was small enough to still be carried, but it was definitely more secure than the bag he was currently living in.

"Alright." Mitch walked away from the car. "I'll do it." He took a moment to check the cub's vitals and give him some water. "He'll need food soon."

"We'll make sure you get something on the plane," the young man said. Jamie had come out of the car to help, and she held the empty bag as Mitch lifted the crate. She got in first and reached out, settling it between them on the seat as Mitch climbed in. Abe and Jackson had already been loaded into the other truck, and once Mitch's door was closed the caravan sped away.

The trucks were apparently a means to get to the helicopter sitting half a mile away. Mitch had never been in one, and judging from his friends' expressions they hadn't either. Abe and Mitch helped Jackson up into the aircraft and settled him into a seat as the crate was placed in the center and strapped down with a large net. Mitch buckled himself into the seat next to Jamie then took her hand. He knew she hated boats and the moments of takeoff and landing on plane rides. He imagined a helicopter ride was on her list of things to avoid at all costs.

"We're almost home," she whispered so quietly, Mitch thought she might have just been reassuring herself. But when he glanced over she was beaming at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"We're just one more really long plane ride away." She laughed and squeezed his hand as the helicopter lifted suddenly from the field. "Breathe."

She glared at him half-heartedly before turning her attention to the two men across from them. "Jackson, what happened up there?

They listened as he recounted his story, from the moment he woke up to the arrival of the strike team. He had to pause at several intervals to catch his breath, and Abe produced a pack of medicine for him to take once he'd finished.

"You must remember to take these on time, Jackson," he scolded.

"Thanks." He asked one of their escorts for water, and they were all given bottles. Mitch was grateful but it did little for the pang in his stomach. It had been a long time since their last meal.

"I hope that plane has good food," he said. "I'm starving."

Their landing was just as sudden as their takeoff. Mitch guessed military pilots didn't really have time for gentle when a mission was in full swing, but the jarring stop made Jackson wince. They'd landed on an airfield about a hundred yards from a large airliner. Someone had cast a giant net over the whole terminal, tethered to the buildings around it. It was an impressive feat of engineering improvisation, and closer inspection proved that they had strung several nets together to achieve it.

"Birds kept dive bombing passengers as they were loading," one of the men explained. "This was the solution we came up with."

Jamie stopped next to him and peered up. "How many people died getting it up there?"

"No deaths, ma'am," the soldier responded. "A few nasty cuts and bruises. One of my buddies lost part of his ear."

Mitch glanced over in time to see two new soldiers lifting the crate from the helicopter. One of them stumbled and nearly dropped it onto the tarmac.

"Careful with that!" Mitch barked, leaving Jamie's side to oversee the transport.

The young man looked startled at the sight of a disheveled civilian barreling toward him with all the bluster and authority of a three-star general, but he recovered quickly. "Sir, we've got it handled."

"Obviously not, or I wouldn't have yelled," Mitch shot back. "I'll take that." He reached for the container, only a little surprised when they didn't stop him. He hoisted it up against his chest and walked back over to his friends. "Let's get out of here."

They managed to snag two whole sides for themselves only a row apart. Abe and Jackson took one as Mitch put the cub in the window seat of the other. Jamie took the middle seat and buckled in, and Mitch spared only a glance at the back of the cabin before settling in beside her. Her hands were fidgeting in her lap as her eyes danced around. He guessed the shock of their near death experience was finally hitting her and he racked his brain for a solution.

"If you want," he leaned over, "I can go see about pilfering some of those adorable little bottles that haven't grown up yet. Might calm your nerves."

"I'm okay." She didn't look at him, and for a moment he thought about doing it anyway. God knew he could use a drink right now. Then she turned her head and smiled, a warm curve of her lips that reached all the way to her eyes, and his worry vanished. "Really," she gestured to his own still-unbuckled belt, "I'm okay."

He buckled it and tightened the strap before slipping his fingers between hers. "Listen," he stared at their joined hands, trying to summon the courage he needed to say what was on his mind. "I just…" The engines began to rumble as the plane backed away from the terminal. Mitch took several deep breaths as he felt the vibrations through his body. He told himself it was the plane and not his nerves making him shake so roughly, but he imagined his own system was beginning to feel the effects of their adventures.

"Mitch?" Jamie's tone was part curious, part concern. Before her brilliant mind could veer off on a completely incorrect course, he lifted his head and stared directly into her eyes.

"I love you." She took a breath - no doubt to return the sentiment - but Mitch rushed forward before his bravery fled. "I realized earlier that I never told you, never actually said the words. And then, the leopards showed up and the only thing I could think about was how we were going to die and you'd never hear me say them. So I wanted to tell you." It sounded extremely lame in his head, and he cringed mentally as the words replayed. But it was out there now, and judging from the smile that was slowly stretching her face he hadn't completely screwed the whole thing up.

"I knew," she assured him. "You never said it, but you told me anyway. The way you held me after the whole Ben fiasco, when you told me the truth about your deal with Reiden even knowing how much it would hurt me, how you protected me in Zambia and at the hospital...you may not have said the actual words, but you let me know every day that you love me."

Mitch stared at her in wonder. _Forget fate and miracles_ , he mused, _this woman is a gift from God._

"Still," she continued with a wry smile, "it's nice to hear."

He smiled with her, erasing the last of the tension that had gathered in his chest. Mitch brought their joined hands up to brush a kiss on her fingers as the plane lifted away from the earth. Finally, they were on their way home.

"So what are you going to do when we get home?" he asked her. "After the cure is disseminated, I mean."

"I don't know," she shrugged her far shoulder. She turned her head to look at the crate next to her. The cub had been unusually quiet. "I haven't really thought that far ahead."

"I know what you mean," he smiled. _Been doing that a lot, Mitchell. It feels good_.

"We should probably find your mom." Her words surprised him, and she squeezed his hand where it rested in hers. "Then I'd like to visit my aunt and uncle - make sure they're okay."

Mitch remembered the couple he'd met at Jamie's invitation all those months ago. "I'm sure they're fine." They were survivors, and Mitch had no doubt they were holding their own in Folsom. "But we'll find a way to check on them." Mitch marveled at the ease with which _I_ and _you_ had become _we_. He liked it.

"Do you think you'll get your zoo job back?"

"I don't even know if the zoo will still be operational," Mitch answered. "According to the news reports, most of the animals broke out of their enclosures. It's going to take some time for things to settle back down."

"Will you stay in L.A.?" There was something under her tone, something that felt a lot like hope.

"I don't know," he told her. "Martial Law was declared; I don't think anybody's living in L.A. for a while."

"Then you should come to Louisiana," she stated firmly. "You and your mom. We can stay at my uncle's house until we sort everything out."

Mitch had no doubt Bo Armstrong would honor his niece's invitation. He thought about that for a moment, tried to picture what it would be like. He could wake up every morning with her next to him, far away from the craziness this world had become. He had to admit, it had appeal.

"That sounds like a great idea."

She nodded in agreement and laid her head on his shoulder. He turned slightly and kissed the crown of her head before laying his cheek against it. They stayed that way until the seatbelt sign dimmed and attendants came by with bright smiles to take drink and dinner orders. Jamie ordered the veggie plate. Mitch ordered something alcoholic. The attendant returned with their drinks first, depositing two cups, a can of soda and two small bottles of whiskey on Mitch's tray table.

"They're holding out on me," Mitch grumbled. "I know they've got vodka stashed back there somewhere."

Jamie pushed up and craned her head to peer over the back of her chair. "No one's back there now. I can distract them."

"Don't tempt me," he pulled the tab on the soda and divided it up between the two cups as Jamie opened the tiny whiskey bottles. "Should we toast our success?" he asked once the whiskey had been added.

"No," Jamie shook her head. "Let's not jinx it. We still have to get back to the states and mass produce it. Not to mention the tiny dilemma of distribution."

"Okay," he cut her off before she could work herself up. "Then what should we toast?"

She didn't answer at first, but Mitch didn't worry. He knew her well enough now to recognize her thinking face. When she smiled, he knew she'd found something.

"To missing cats in Brentwood."

He couldn't help it. The laugh bubbled up before he could stop it, and it filled the space between them as it erupted from his throat. He tried to bite down on it, to at least stop it short. But her declaration had been so deliberate and so unexpected that it was too late. He opened his mouth to apologize, to tell her that her toast was perfect and please don't be mad at him...only she didn't look angry. If he had to put a name to it, he'd called it proud delight.

"Sorry," he said anyway. "That was just...not what I was expecting."

"It's okay," she was grinning ear to ear now, and Mitch wondered what was going on in her head. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

He had a million things to say to that, but none of them seemed right for the light, easy tone she had struck. So he tapped the rim of his plastic cup against hers and returned her smile. "To missing cats in Brentwood."

Dinner came, and with it two more drinks for each of them. Mitch ordered a small steak (raw, of course) which he promptly let Jamie feed to the leopard. She cooed at the little guy like a puppy, and Mitch had to remind her that he was probably headed for a zoo or a sanctuary just as soon as they had what they needed from him.

"Can we not return him to the wild?" Jamie asked.

"Maybe," Mitch didn't want to say no outright. "Remember, we took him from his mother before he could learn how to hunt properly. It's likely if we release him, he won't know enough to survive on his own." He downed the last of his drink and waved off the attendant's silent offer of another. He noticed Jamie had barely touched hers, and after a quick question and her answering gesture he finished that one, too.

Alcohol had always had an odd effect on him. He never got angry or goofy or stupid like some of his college acquaintances. No, Mitch Morgan was a philosophical drunk. All the thoughts that swirled in his head with no evidence or hard facts to support them came tumbling out. Thankfully, his tolerance was sufficiently high that the few shots of whiskey he'd had were just enough to alleviate the ache in his limbs that had settled in after their near-death experience and not quite enough for his innermost thoughts to come spilling out.

Jamie, it seemed, was a sleepy drunk.

She wriggled in her seat, obviously searching for a comfortable position, before her head once again found a place on his shoulder and she nodded off without so much as a mumbled goodnight. He chuckled and turned off their overhead light, leaning his head back against his seat to follow her.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain._ " An announcement woke Mitch from his light doze. Next to him, Jamie was struggling to sit up straighter in her chair as the pilot continued. " _We've been informed that due to some unusual migratory behavior, this air space has been closed._ "

"What's going on?" Jamie asked sleepily. "What migratory behavior?"

" _We've been diverted to_ -" But the captain never finished his sentence. A horrible rending tore through the fuselage, and the entire top of the plane was suddenly ripped away. Mitch's breath stole from his lungs as he was very violently tossed about in his seat. If he hadn't been strapped in, he probably would have been killed instantly. He heard Jamie scream, and even though she was right next to him she sounded so far away. He tried to turn his head to look at her, but the rest of the jet was in a free fall spin and the force kept his head pinned to his seat.

Mitch slammed his eyes closed and reached blindly for the woman next to him. Her fingers clamped on his arm and held on as the pilots somehow regained control. They weren't spinning any longer, but they were still going down. Mitch guessed from the vast expanse of black beneath them that they were over the ocean. He spared a thought for Abe and Jackson, a row ahead and an eternity away. The cries of terror from the other passengers seemed to echo around him, but he couldn't take a breath to speak.

 _At least I told her_ , he tried to ease the despair that was consuming him. _She knows._

He tried to say it again, to shout the words into the chaotic tempest around them. His mouth moved to form the words, but his voice wouldn't cooperate. Over and over he mouthed those three words, repeated them like a silent prayer. Finally, in what Mitch believed were his final seconds on this earth, his lungs took in a gulp of air and his last breath was spent on her name.


	13. Great Big Hill of Hope - What's Going On

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 13: That Great Big Hill of Hope - What's Going On

 _The team has to learn how to adjust after losing Jamie and their only hope for a cure. Six months after the plane crash, Mitch gets a phone call that will change his life. A Jamie/Mitch rewrite_

* * *

 _Somewhere in the North Atlantic_

Anik loved the ocean. Since he was a boy sitting by his father's side, he loved the vast unknown that it represented. Beneath the waves an entire world existed below his own, and young Anik had been fascinated by the multitude of creatures in its depths.

He'd fished these waters since before he could walk and, despite its unpredictable and fickle nature, he knew his small corner of the ocean better than he knew his own home. So when his aging eyes caught the silhouette of something bobbing in the waves, his curious nature drove him to investigate.

It was a crate, no bigger than one of his traps under the dock at home. But it held no aquatic creature within, despite its drenched coat. He knew what it was, and his mind supplied the word even as he knew it couldn't be.

 _Posivak_

How it had gotten into his ocean didn't matter. What mattered was the small creature needed help. It mewled pathetically as Anik fished the crate out and into his boat. He took that as a good sign. If he could make noise, he would likely survive. But what to do with him? With the madness that had taken hold of the animals, giving him over to the authorities was not an option - they would kill him before Anik could utter a word. But that left two options: leave him to the ocean, or take him back home. He glanced out at the horizon, charged with various shades of pink and orange as the sun rose in the distance. The ocean would take him, wrap him in its cold embrace and take him away from the warmth of the sun. It wasn't a fate Anik wished on anyone. Home it was.

" _Well, little guy_ ," he muttered, " _you are coming with me it seems._ "

There would be no fishing today. The cub needed to be dry and warm, neither of which could be found on Anik's boat. As he turned the rudder, pointing his bow back toward home, his eye caught another shadow, visible now only because the sun had risen fully. At first Anik thought it just the normal flotsam that he found almost daily, reminders that the humans that should have been stewards of the natural world were the worst perpetrators of its destruction. He always pulled this from the ocean as well; he had a very large, very odd collection of debris in the space behind his home. He grabbed his hook and steered toward it, ready to pluck it out as he passed by.

The shock of red hair almost made him fall out of his boat. He reversed his momentum then killed the engine, gliding to a stop by the slight woman clinging desperately to a large piece of what he could only assume had been a plane. Anik wondered if she was from the same vessel as the cub. A hunter perhaps, or a scientist? It didn't matter. She, too, would find shelter in Anik's home.

He pulled her carefully from the water, mindful of the jagged piece of metal sticking from her leg. She was waterlogged and delirious, but the slight movement of her head and the flutter of her eyelashes told Anik she was a fighter. The cold water had stifled the blood flow from her wound, but as she warmed it would worsen. He searched his onboard first aid kit for anything to help, but the best he could do was a large square of gauze. He ripped it and packed it around the metal, refusing to even think about pulling it from her leg until they were somewhere more stable.

" _This has certainly been an interesting morning_ ," he muttered to his two companions. He shrugged off his own coat and winced against the bitter ocean breeze as he draped it over the woman. She needed it far more than he did. It was getting colder now as the summer heat bled away in the autumn winds. Her head turned slightly as she coughed up a mouthful of water, mumbling something Anik couldn't make out over the roar of his engine as he sped toward the coast.

She was unconscious again as he expertly maneuvered into the small channel that led toward home. The dock was left untouched by the animals, and Anik was smart enough to be thankful for small favors. His truck was under the cover of a shed nearby, and it took two trips to transfer his new guests to the vehicle. Luckily for them, the animals seemed to be busy elsewhere.

Anik navigated the small dirt path from the dock to his house easily enough. When he reached the gate he checked the surroundings thoroughly before jumping out quickly to open it. He could hear growls in the distance, and his hands were shaking as he unlocked the gate and pushed it open. Movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to move just a bit quicker back to the truck, and by the time he had driven through the gate he could see a lumbering figure cresting the hill behind him. The bear snarled as Anik shut the gate, locking him away from his kill. The beast reared up and slammed his paws against the fence in anger. Anik merely smirked and wagged a finger at him as the metal moved under the weight of the beast but held.

" _Not today_."

With the animals safely locked behind the fence, Anik could breathe easier as he steered his truck to the two-story house sitting in the middle of the property. The home had been in his family for three generations; his grandfather had built it almost a hundred years ago. Anik had been the only son of an only son, and with his wife gone there was no one to leave it to when he passed. The thought was a sad one, but not one Anik let himself dwell on often. _Everything has its time and purpose_ , his father had always said. _You will discover yours one day, Anik._

He looked at the woman slumped against the seat. Was this his purpose? To pull a single woman from the ocean after almost sixty years of life? Was he saving her only to doom her to death when his supplies inevitably ran out? Would she even survive the night?

 _Too many questions_ , Anik scolded himself. He needed to take care of the immediate problems; everything else would work themselves out one way or another. He left the woman in the truck and ran inside, turning down the bed that had once been his grandmother's and making sure there was a fire going in the small wood burning stove in the corner. He gathered every extra blanket he had in the house, setting two aside for the cub and piling the rest on the bed before returning outside.

She was lighter now that some of the water had drained from her clothes. Anik had no trouble lifting her up and carrying her upstairs. He would need to remove the metal from her leg and keep watch for infection. He silently thanked his mother for insisting he learn how to properly care for and dress wounds. Being so far from civilization, she had often been the only doctor available for him and his family.

He left her on the bed and went back for the crate, setting it down in the center of the family room just in front of the fireplace. He pried the top of the crate open and reached in for the soggy blanket inside, replacing it with an old threadbare quilt. The cub barely lifted its head, and Anik knew he needed to hurry with the woman if he wanted to save both of them.

He gathered everything he would need and whispered an ancient healing prayer as he ascended the stairs to see to the first of his patients. It was going to be a long day.

 _North Atlantic Ocean_

 _CCGS Bartlett, Canadian Coast Guard vessel_

"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?" Mitch came to slowly. _God, how much did I drink?_ But this didn't feel like a hangover. His head was pounding, but upon further inspection so was his whole body. He tried to sit up, but his chest screamed with the movement and he was forced to lie back down.

"What happened?" His mind was working to recall something important, but right now all he could focus on was the piercing pain behind his eyes. He was aware of someone standing next to him, but he couldn't raise his eyes enough to see his face.

"Sir, you have a concussion from the crash and possible broken ribs. I need you to lie still."

 _Crash? The airplane. Jamie._

"Where's Jamie? A woman. There was a woman sitting next to me." Getting rid of the pain in his head was suddenly at the bottom of his priority list. He tried to sit up again, and this time the man pushed back on his shoulder.

"Sir, you need to lie down."

"No," he looked around, taking in the tiny room packed wall to wall with cots and people in various stages of consciousness. Some of them had men or women in red jackets speaking with them, others were staring lifelessly at the ceiling, never to speak again. The entire room rocked, and Mitch realized it wasn't due to his head injury. They were on a boat. "I need to find Jamie." He scanned the entire area, searching for her among the living. He refused to look at the deceased, not willing to entertain the idea. But when he didn't see her, he knew he had to. There were maybe thirty bodies lying in rows along the far wall. Most of them had been covered, but the short sheets meant he could see the tops of their heads from his position. He didn't see any redheads and his chest burned with the sigh of relief that escaped him. He searched again, and on his second pass his eyes found a familiar figure. "Abe!"

The larger man was lying prone on a cot near the wall next to the door. His eyes were closed, and for a second Mitch feared the worst. Ignoring the protest of the medic behind him, Mitch carefully navigated the small spaces between bodies until he was close enough to see the rise and fall of Abe's chest. He sat down gingerly, and Abe's eyes opened. Or one of them did. The other was swollen shut, and there were dozens of tiny scrapes and cuts on his face and neck.

"You're alive." His voice was rough and quiet, like he'd been screaming for days. He sat up and leaned back against the wall with only a slight wince. "I saw when they brought you in earlier, but they would not let me come to you." There was something in his tone that made Mitch think there was more to that story, but there were more pressing matters.

"Have you seen Jamie? Jackson?"

"Jackson was moved to a critical ward because of his recent surgery. He was fine the last I saw of him." He stopped, his eyes dropping to the blanket in his lap before rising to meet Mitch's gaze. "I have not seen Jamie."

"She was right next to me," Mitch mumbled.

"She might be in the same room as Jackson," Abe offered hopefully. _The critical ward._ It was horrible of him to hope for it, but it was better than the alternative.

"I have to go." Abe nodded knowingly as Mitch struggled to his feet. The boat rocked again and Mitch held out his hand to steady himself against the bulkhead. A medic was by his side almost instantly, his grip gentle but insistent around Mitch's arm.

"Sir, you need to get back to your bed."

"I need to find her," he shrugged off the man's helping hand and stumbled toward the door. "Where's the critical ward?"

"Sir, please."

"No!" he whirled on the young man with a snarl that would have made the leopards proud. "Take me to the critical ward."

"I can't," he shook his head sadly. "Critical patients were airlifted to a larger Coast Guard vessel. There's no way to get you there."

"Put me on a helicopter, then." Mitch was ready to swim if he had to.

"We are still evacuating critical patients," the medic remained calm despite the obviously distraught man raving in his face. In any other circumstance, Mitch would applaud his patience. Right now, it was just irritating.

"Then go find me someone who can -"

"Sir," another medic came to help, this one an older woman with a messy bun and a stern expression. "If you don't calm down, you will be sedated. Please return to your bed."

"No," Mitch shook his head and lunged for the door. "I need to find her. I need to -" Hands grabbed him, and his breath caught in his throat as his chest protested the manhandling. Blood rushed in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. He thought he heard the baritone of Abe's voice pleading with him to calm down but the only thing he could focus on was getting to Jamie. A small pinch on his arm heralded a flood of medicine; suddenly his muscles wouldn't support his weight. The hands that had been grabbing him moved to catch him, and Mitch felt the ground fall away as his mind went black.

 _New Brunswick, Canada - 15 miles south of Caraquet_

It had been a very close thing, but Anik slept well in the knowledge that both of his new guests would live through the night. The woman had been the worst, and she was still not out of the woods entirely. The wound in her leg had been bad, but so far it seemed to have escaped infection. She had lost a lot of blood when he finally had to pull the chunk of metal free, and she had awakened with a scream and feverish look in her eyes. Luckily the pain had overwhelmed her and knocked her out again, allowing Anik to sew the wound closed.

Next had come the need to change her out of her ruined clothes. He whispered quiet words of apology as he peeled away the layers crusted with blood and seawater. He had no clothes her size, having donated all of his mother's, so he had to settle for an old sweatshirt of his. Her underwear he left, hoping she would wake enough to take care of any necessities.

With the blood washed away, he noted the sharp angles of her face made more prominent from lack of food and water. He would need to wake her to eat soon to give her body the energy it needed to heal properly. But now she needed to rest, and he left her to sleep as he tended to the cub.

The sun was setting as he ascended the stairs with a bowl of soup and bottle of painkillers. He set both on the table by her bed then checked her temperature. She felt neither too hot with fever or chilled from her time in the water, so Anik guessed she would be okay.

She didn't stir, even when he shook her shoulder. He checked her again, satisfied that she was merely sleeping deeply rather than dead. Her breath was shallow but steady, and Anik sighed.

" _I've prepared this soup. It was my mother's own recipe. It's a shame to miss it_." He knew she couldn't hear him but he felt silly sitting in the room and saying nothing. She needed nourishment, needed something to sustain her as she healed, and he didn't have the resources to administer anything through her bloodstream. He would have to do this the old way.

She would need to wake enough to swallow - he knew that from watching his grandmother often choke or gag mid-bite if she fell asleep. His mother usually sat with her, talking to her and helping her through her meal. Anik moved into the bathroom across the hall, searching beneath the sink for something that would help. The best he could find was a small bottle of peppermint oil and decided it was better than nothing. He set it on the tray with the soup and very carefully lifted the woman into a sitting position. Her head lolled dangerously, but Anik steadied her before she could slump over.

She reacted to the oil immediately, startling and jerking with a hiss of pain. Her eyes were unfocused, and he tried to keep his voice even and calm.

" _You're okay. You are in my home. There is no need to worry._ "

She didn't reply, and her eyes slid closed groggily. Anik held the peppermint oil beneath her nose once more, and this time her eyes widened and did not close. He quickly grabbed the tray and coaxed her into taking a few bites. She swallowed reflexively, but he could see she was quickly tiring. He fed her almost half the bowl before her chin dipping down her chest.

" _Okay_ ," he helped her lay back down and covered her with several blankets. " _That's enough for now. Rest._ "

She was already unconscious by the time he turned the lights off and pulled the door closed behind him. He would check on her in a few hours and see about taking her to the bathroom. His next task was feeding the cub and finding a suitable place for him. When the woman was well enough to speak, maybe he could find out why she was traveling with a leopard cub and where she'd come from. Until then, Anik would care for both of them and do his best to keep them all alive.

 _CCG Base Dartmouth_

 _Dartmouth, Nova Scotia_

Heavy footfalls approaching his door pulled Mitch's thoughts out of the darkness of his own mind. It had been three days since they'd been pulled from the Atlantic, and so far only Abe had been allowed to walk the halls of the medical facility unescorted. Jackson's restriction was understandable; his wound had ruptured and he was still recovering from the second surgery. It was a miracle he was even alive right now.

Mitch's freedom hadn't been restricted because of his injuries - the ribs they'd broken resuscitating him still ached but they didn't hinder his mobility too badly. He'd been confined to his room and strapped to his bed after his third escape attempt. The search and rescue had still been ongoing, and none of the medical staff believed him when he insisted he was well enough to help. The first time he'd been scolded and escorted back to his room after trying to leave it twenty minutes after his arrival. The second time he'd been sedated once they brought him back from the lobby.

The third time had been just that morning after Mitch had learned from the morning news that the search had been called off.

He'd made it to the courtyard, heedless of his state of dress or his lack of footwear. Even not knowing where he was or where he was going served to deter him. He would walk every inch of the base until he found someone who would listen. It had been two guards that had caught him, their attention grabbed by the half-dressed man shambling toward the street. Mitch had fought them initially, demanding to be taken to their commanding officer or whoever was in charge so he could tell them. He needed to tell them they couldn't give up. His still-healing injuries and their elite training ended the struggle almost the same moment it began.

He'd screamed as they dragged him back to the hospital, spat profanities and pleas at the nurses who finally administered the sedative that knocked him out. He'd awakened back in his bed with the added humiliation of velcro straps around his wrists and ankles.

The door opened and Abe's head popped through just before the rest of him, like he was checking to see if it was safe. Mitch guessed the nurses must have told him, because his expression was a mixture of disappointment and regret.

"How are you?" His tone, at least, was trying for something a little lighter. Mitch didn't appreciate it.

"Abe, get me out of these things." He strained his wrists against the straps in demonstration.

"I'm sorry," he shook his head sadly. "The nurses say it is for your own good."

"That's ridiculous," Mitch barked. "I'm not threat to myself or others."

"You're a flight risk," Abe scolded. "They say you've gone missing three times." Mitch knew he knew why, so he didn't say anything. "Mitch, I'm sor -"

"Don't," Mitch felt his throat close over the word, and he coughed to forcefully clear the lump there. "Don't say it." He turned his head to look out the window rather than the sorrowful expression on his friend's face. Saying it made it real. Permanent. "She's not dead."

"Mitch," Abe whispered. "You are a man of science. Of reason. You know that there is no possible way someone could survive three days in the ocean without a raft, without provisions. She is gone."

Tears blurred his vision and he kept his head turned away so Abe couldn't see. His head agreed with Abe, but his heart refused to give up. He laughed wetly at the thought. It was something he'd never even considered before her, that his heart could have any say at all in his life. His head ruled, reason and logic the only religion he ever needed. But then she'd come along and turned everything on its ear, and suddenly he had meaning for words like belief and hope.

He felt Abe's looming presence as the man came to stand next to the bed. "Jackson is being moved to a hospital in D.C. They have asked if we want to accompany him."

Mitch's eyes slammed closed, and he felt a tear track down and over his cheek to land on the bed sheets. "We can't leave her out there."

"She's is not out there," Abe laid a warm hand on Mitch's shoulder, gaining the man's attention before moving it to his chest. His touch was light, careful of the bruising, but Mitch felt a warmth suffuse him as he forced his eyes open to look at his friend. "She will be here, always. And here," he lifted his hand to tap his own chest. "As long as we remember her, honor her, then she is never gone."

Mitch swallowed thickly as a few more tears escaped. He shrugged a shoulder to wipe them from his face, cursing his confinement for the hundredth time. After a few moments of silence, he took a deep breath. "When do we leave?"

 _Folsom, Louisiana_

 _One Week Later_

Mitch eased his foot off of the gas pedal as the speed limit dropped to thirty at the Folsom city limit. It was one of those blink-and-you-miss-it kind of towns, remarkable now only for the lack of residents milling about on the main street. The last time he'd visited, Mitch had been struck by the very Mayberry feel of the town right down to the old men sitting outside the post office and the solitary police man who patrolled up and down the street. He hadn't spent much time in the town proper - just the few minutes it had taken him to buy the bouquet of flowers for Nancy Campbell's gravestone and the hour or so spent at Vic's Bar at the end of the road. Still, it felt different as he drove through the town center. Shop fronts were dark or - in the case of one unlucky merchant - boarded up. Very few people were out, and those that were bustled purposefully to their destination without so much as a friendly nod to anyone they passed.

 _Jamie would have hated this_.

Mitch knew she loved her hometown. Despite the tragedy that had struck almost twenty years ago, the citizens of Folsom had come together and supported each other like family. The town had survived hurricanes, floods, and countless other disasters, all while keeping the small town charm that was all but gone in this age of technology and progress. To hear Jamie talk, Folsom itself embodied the very definition of perseverance. Seeing it like this would have broken her heart.

Mitch found the turnoff that led toward Jamie's childhood home. He'd only been here once, but he remembered her comment about the broken fence at the crossroad that served no other purpose than a landmark for visitors. It still swung precariously in the wind, held up by a single hinge that refused to give out.

He slowed to a crawl as he approached the two story home. He hadn't called ahead - hadn't known how, even if he'd mustered the courage. And in these times, unannounced visitors might receive a rather disturbing welcome. It was enough to keep him in the car even as he killed the engine.

Lights inside told him there were people home, and it wasn't long before the screen door swung open. A large, broad-shouldered man filled the doorway, his stern face illuminated by the setting sun. His closely cropped hair was almost completely gray, and his belly hung just slightly over the waist of his dirt-caked jeans. Mitch remembered his first meeting with the man and the way he'd stared at his niece's guest all night as though he could see into Mitch's soul. It had been uncomfortable until his wife had smacked him on the shoulder and ordered him to knock it off.

Mitch decided he should get out of the car before Bo Armstrong got too nervous and skipped asking any questions. He kept his movements slow as he opened the door and stood, keeping his head up as Bo stared at him. Recognition dawned on his face and he relaxed, smiling as his eyes naturally traveled to the passenger side of the vehicle. Mitch felt his heart clench at the confusion that slowly replaced the man's eager smile.

"You're Jamie's friend," Bo lifted his chin in acknowledgement but didn't budge from his stance.

"Mitch Morgan," Mitch offered. "Yes, sir." He added the last as an after thought, remembering the respectful address Jamie always used with her uncle.

"Where is she?" There must have been something in Mitch's face that answered his question, because Mitch saw the color drained from his cheeks and he frowned. "You better come inside, son. It's not safe round here after dark." He turned and put his back against the screen door, holding it open and inviting Mitch in all in one movement. Mitch covered the distance to the porch quickly, jogging up the three steps and into the house as Bo glanced around for any threats. Satisfied none were about, he followed Mitch inside and closed the door behind them.

"Thank you," Mitch had stopped in the foyer, now completely awkward and unsure.

Bo leaned the shotgun against the wall next to the door and stood up straight to look Mitch in the eye. "What happened?" Most of Mitch's injuries were hidden beneath his clothes, including a very large bruise covering most of his chest where they'd broken ribs trying to get his heart started again. There was a healing cut just above his eye that had needed stitches, and a fading bruise that disappeared into his hairline. Still, Mitch figured Bo understood that whatever had happened to Jamie, Mitch had been there as well.

"I…" Mitch swallowed and took a breath, trying to come up with the right words. "We were on a plane, and it -" The word _crashed_ caught in his throat, and he tried to cough to clear it. What came out sounded closer to a sob. "I'm sorry."

"Bo?" a woman's voice called from somewhere further in the house. Just to the left of the door was the sitting room, open and warm. An old sofa sat against the far wall, pushed up against a bookshelf that had been tipped sideways in front of a boarded up picture window. On their last visit, Mitch had admired the sunset through that window.

"Damn birds dive bombed and broke the glass," Bo explained as he gestured for Mitch to follow. He led them past the staircase that rose to the second floor and into the kitchen that sat just beyond the sitting room. A large round table sat on one side of the kitchen, though it was a bit more crowded than the last time Mitch had been here.

A tall man with angular features and dark brown hair sat facing the doorway, and as Mitch entered behind Bo he tensed.

"It's alright, Reese," Bo waved off his oldest son's concern. "He's a friend of Jamie's."

At her niece's name, Fran Armstrong turned from her large pot of stew and smiled. Her face was rounded from years of good eating and her brown hair was streaked gray in some places, but her eyes danced with a light that sent a lance of guilt through Mitch's heart. He would be the one to dim that light, possibly extinguish it forever.

"Mitch," she wiped her hands on a dish towel and moved to wrap him in a hug. The gesture startled him, and he barely managed to lift his arms and return it before she pulled away. "Where's Jamie?" She was looking past him now, over his shoulder to the hallway where she was sure her niece was lurking.

"Fran," Bo grabbed a chair and pulled it back. "Sit down, honey." The somber tone of his voice told her everything she needed to know.

Fran's bright smile vanished, replaced by a look of horror as she shuffled backwards a few steps. "No." Her hand moved to cover her mouth, which was quivering now as she fought tears. "No, no, no."

Bo reached out and grasped her arm lightly, steering her toward the chair. Reese moved to kneel next to her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Mitch could only watch, helpless and frozen in place. It was a scene that had been all too familiar to him as a doctor in a hospital. He knew from experience that no amount of apologies or condolences would soothe their grief, even if they heard him. But even as he watched Fran Armstrong crumple and bury her face in her hands, even as he heard her wails of anguish fill the small space, Mitch knew this time was different.

"Mom?" Another voice, then footsteps on the stairs. It sounded like an entire herd of elephants tromping through the forest. A blur of red hair zipped past him, and for a moment Mitch's heart skipped a beat. A younger man came in, trailed by a blonde woman and two boys that couldn't be older than three or four. Mitch recognized them from the family photos in the living room, and his mind supplied the name after only a few seconds. Fran couldn't speak, her face still covered by her hands as she wept. Charlie looked up at his brother for help.

"Jamie." It was all the eldest Armstrong brother could say, his own emotion choking him as he tried to stay strong for his mother. Charlie gasped and reached out to lay a hand on Fran's leg.

It was too much. The despair that had suddenly blanketed the room made it impossible for him to stay there another moment more. He turned with a mumbled apology to the woman still standing in the doorway and bolted for the living room. His breath came in short gasps, his own grief rising up like a wave and crashing against his chest. Bo's warning about going out after dark made him stop at the front door, his hand still gripping the doorknob desperately. He stood there for several minutes, debating internally, before he turned the knob.

"Wait." It was Bo, his voice somehow steady despite the horrific news Mitch had brought him. "Stay inside, son."

Mitch released the handle but didn't move. His eyes were glued to the well-worn mat at his feet, its message of welcome faded and almost invisible after years of use. Mitch had bit back a snide comment the first time he saw it, choosing instead to offer his hosts a flat smile and firm handshake as Jamie introduced them. He had learned very quickly that this single word was more than a faded greeting on a mat; Fran Armstrong had welcomed him into her home like he'd been a part of the family forever. He'd repaid her by bringing news of her only niece's death.

"Come back inside," Bo was closer now, close enough to lay a hand on Mitch's shoulder. Unsure of what else to do, Mitch let himself be led like a child back to the kitchen. Fran was still crying quietly in the arms of her oldest son, and Charlie's wife had taken up position behind the younger man to console him. The two toddlers were unusually quiet, no doubt reacting to the mood of the room as they occupied themselves in a corner. Mitch felt the weight of their sorrow as he entered. Fran glanced up and choked back a sob as she stood to gather Mitch against her.

"I'm so sorry, Mitch," she cried into his shoulder. Mitch winced as she squeezed him just a little too hard, but he wouldn't dare interrupt her grief for his own physical pain. She seemed to sense it, though, because when she pulled back she ran a critical eye over him. "Are you alright? Bo said it was a plane crash?" Her words were strained but she managed to get them out without losing composure. Mitch marveled at her strength.

"Yeah," he cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am."

Fran waved a hand at him and pushed him to a chair. "None of that, Mitch. Here." She opened the fridge and pulled out a cold bottle of water. "I'm sorry I don't have anything else to offer," she said. "I haven't exactly been able to get to the store." She pushed it into his hands as he sat down. "Are you hungry?"

"Fran," Bo shook his head. "Why don't you sit down?"

She looked at her husband in surprise, as though the very notion of not accommodating their guest was akin to heresy. Mitch guessed in the South that might be true.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "This is fine, thank you. Please." He gestured at the chair she'd vacated to take care of him. His guilt ramped up a few notches as she frowned, but she sank down gracefully and sat with her back erect.

"I just can't believe...first Stephen, now Jamie. What's going on out there?" Stephen, he knew, was the name of one of their twins. Mitch hadn't met any of the Armstrong boys before tonight, but he'd heard about Stephen and his wife on his last visit. They'd been living in Houston before the animals had mutated. From Fran's tone, he guessed something bad had happened in Texas.

"Something's wrong with the animals," Mitch really didn't feel up to going over it all again, but he knew this family deserved an explanation. "They've been exposed to something that caused them to mutate. That's what's making them aggressive." There was more to it than that - far more - but it wasn't anything he wanted to talk about right now.

"Did animals cause the plane crash?" Bo asked.

Mitch nodded sharply. "We were over the Atlantic. They searched for four days before they called off the rescue. The Canadian government sent dive teams out for recovery and salvage." Mitch had forced down a wave of nausea when Abe had told him. He knew what those words meant; they were looking for bodies. Ever since then, anytime Mitch thought about the crash or Jamie he pictured her bloated, sickly and pale with death. He felt the bile rising in his throat and he pushed it back down; he had no intention of throwing up again until his ribs had healed. The first time he'd tried solid food after the crash he'd been unable to keep it down. The pain had been nearly unbearable, like someone was slamming his chest with a sledgehammer each time his stomach clenched.

"They never found her?" Fran's voice quivered, her hands fluttering in front of her as they sought for something hold onto. Reese offered his own hand and she took it gratefully.

"No." Mitch dropped his gaze from hers, unable to bear witness to her pain any longer. Her hiccuping sob was enough, though, and he slammed his eyes closed to stop his own tears from falling. He had no right to them, not while he was essentially the one responsible for her involvement in the first place.

"Reese, Charlie, take your mother upstairs, please," Bo's gentle command was heeded almost instantly. Reese kept a hold of Fran's hand as Charlie moved to wrap an arm around her shoulders. The blonde woman - Megan, Mitch finally remembered - gathered her children and followed, leaving Mitch alone in the kitchen with Jamie's uncle.

He braced himself for the onslaught, for the blame. Guilt had been eating at him for the past week, tormenting him with flashes of their brief time together. When Chloe had mentioned notifying Jamie's family, he'd balked at first. Then he pictured these wonderful people learning the news from a phone call or a stranger at their door and he relented. He owed them that much, at least, for dragging their niece into this mess. If it hadn't been for him, Jamie would be sitting at the table happily chatting away with her family rather than beneath the cold, crushing depths of the sea.

He deserved every bit of contempt and ire Bo Armstrong could hurl at him. The least he could do was straighten up and take it like a man. Bo's stare was piercing as Mitch lifted his eyes, but he didn't look away. In the man's gaze he could see the sorrow of his loss, the pain that came with the death of a child. Jamie might not have been his own, but there was no way Mitch could have missed the way Bo and Fran had felt about their niece. She was theirs as much as any of the boys, and now she was gone. If it would ease his misery, Mitch would gladly bear the brunt of his anger.

"I want to thank you," Bo said finally.

His words surprised Mitch so much that he jerked in his seat. "What?"

Bo smiled sadly and leaned his arms on the table. "The last time you were here, after you went to bed, Jamie and I sat up talking. We used to do that sometimes, when she was younger." Bo's smile changed then, warming with the memory. "She always wanted to hear stories about her mom from when we were kids, so we'd make some cocoa and sit out on the porch and I'd tell her stories until she fell asleep." He took a moment to bask in the happiness of those simpler days. "So when she told me she couldn't sleep, I made us some cocoa and out to the porch we went." Bo poked at an imaginary speck on the table as he gathered his thoughts. Mitch was still too confused to offer anything other than a muted stare.

"She told me what you did," Bo continued after a few seconds. "About the lions, the thing with Reiden. She said you believed her." Bo's fingers curled slightly into a loose fist. It was the first sign of emotion he'd seen all night from the man. "All her life people have been telling her to let it go, that there was nothing she could do. Reiden's too big, too rich, and no one would listen to one orphaned girl from a nowhere town. Until you."

Mitch shook his head. "I didn't -"

"You did," Bo pressed. "Something broke inside that girl when her mother passed. Lord knows I have my fair share of anger in regards to it, and I live with it everyday. But Nancy's death hit Jamie the hardest." Bo sat back in his chair and sighed wearily. "She became distant, withdrawn, angry. When she got older, she threw herself into this quest of hers. She promised to make Reiden pay for what they did." He paused then, shaking his head sadly. "No one thought she could do it, even me." Shame tinted his eyes now and he looked away from Mitch. "I never told her, of course, but I never really believed she'd get far. Back when the plant failed, the town rallied and pushed for a lawsuit but nothing ever came of it. The whole damn state of Louisiana couldn't stand against Reiden; what chance did one woman have?"

Mitch thought back to his first meeting with Jamie. She'd been so sure of Reiden's connection with the lion's odd behavior, ready with facts and statistics and anecdotal proof that had amused and intrigued him all at once. _Who was this woman_ , he'd thought to himself, _and why does this matter so much?_ A night of drinks had answered his questions and created so many more. He learned of her life's work, of her unyielding tenacity in the face of seemingly impossible odds. Everyday Jamie donned her armor and went to battle with Reiden. It didn't matter how many times they beat her down, she kept standing back up. Mitch had only seen her falter once, brought low not by her enemy but by someone she thought was an ally. Senator Vaughn. He'd done more to crush her spirit in five minutes of conversation than a decade of injunctions, roadblocks, and threats from Reiden. Mitch had only known her for maybe a week, and he already wanted to shield her from that pain, to find some way to help her through it. Gaspard had presented the opportunity, and he'd seized it with both hands.

Bo went on, oblivious to Mitch's thoughts. "But she kept at it. No matter what anyone told her, she was determined. We tried to help, honest we did. But we couldn't devote our whole lives to it - not like she could. We have the farm, the boys...we had to learn how to move on. But Jamie just kept at it, kept digging, kept searching. In the end, she had to do a lot of it alone." Bo stood up, resting his hands flat on the table to lean in. "Then you came along. You listened to her. Not only that, but you believed her, helped her. You can't understand what that means to me, son. To know there was someone standing with her in the end."

Mitch suddenly couldn't breathe, couldn't look this man in the eye for the shame and guilt that washed over him. _Take care of her_. That had been Bo's only request the morning they'd left for D.C. and that first fateful meeting with Delavane and the rest of the team. Mitch had taken the man's outstretched hand and nodded in answer.

"You loved her." Bo's words were a statement, like a fact read from a textbook rather than a question. Mitch gasped for a breath and glanced up at the man now towering over him. "It's alright. Hard not to, really." Bo stepped away from the table and shoved his hands in his pockets for lack of something to do. "I'm not sure what your plans are, but we'd love to have you stay for a bit. Fran will want to have a service, even with all the craziness going on out there."

Mitch thought about his options. He could go back to D.C., to his friends' pitiful glances and hesitant interactions. Just the idea that they would feel the need to tiptoe around him for fear of upsetting him made him scratch that plan. He could go further north, find Clementine and Audra and wait out the apocalypse in Maine. But despite his promise to be more involved in his daughter's life, to stay in touch, he thought maybe all day, everyday was a bit too much right now. He could go back to California, find his mom and figure out what to do from there. She would no doubt want to hear all about his adventures, which would prompt another wave of sympathy that he wasn't sure he could stand right now.

He would call Chloe and figure out how to contact Clementine and his mother tomorrow. Standing to match Bo's height he said the only thing he could manage without his voice breaking.

"Thank you."

"No, son," Bo reached out to lay a hand on Mitch's shoulder. "Thank you."

 _Folsom, Louisiana_

 _September 25th_

Fran pulled him in for one last hug as Bo closed the trunk of his borrowed government car. Chloe had promised him that no one would come looking for it and he could use it as long as he wanted. Mitch hadn't questioned her, just accepted the credit card she'd told him to use for gas and the hug she'd given him before he'd climbed in and pointed the car south.

"Please call us when you get back to Washington," Fran fussed. It was still a bit awkward, but Mitch had grown mostly accustomed to her fretting over the last few weeks.

"I will," he promised. "And I'll call you after the hearing and let you know how things go." Chloe had called him with the news the night before. A lot of high level Reiden execs were being summoned to the capital for a hearing. It hadn't been announced to the public yet, but enough of the right people had learned about the Mother Cell and the cause of the animal mutations. Mitch suspected Delavane had been involved, but Chloe wouldn't say anything else. Mitch was needed to present the empirical data as the team's resident scientist.

"Be careful," Bo shook Mitch's hand heartily, then pulled the younger man in for a brief hug.

"I will," Mitch promised again. "Tell Sam goodbye for me."

Stephen's twin had come back home for Jamie's memorial, and he and Mitch had hit it off pretty well. He was a vet in Shreveport, and after the service they'd sat in the kitchen speaking quietly until the early hours of the morning. Mitch listened as Sam told story after story of young Jamie's exploits, about how she would sneak out at night and cover the two miles to her mother's grave. The first time she'd done it, Fran had been frantic until Reese had figured it out. He'd found her slumped over her mother's name having cried herself to sleep. He'd carried her home, and the whole family had stayed at her side for two days. The second time, Sam and Stephen had met her outside on their bikes and rode with her. It became a sort of weekly tradition, a poorly kept secret that neither Fran nor Bo mentioned so long as Sam and Stephen went with her.

Mitch had planned on stopping by the cemetery on his way out of town, but as the turn came up he found he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt the shame rise in him as he drove by. Once was enough, he told himself. He'd come back in a few months, he promised himself, when the pain of her death wasn't so raw. Perhaps then he could bring himself to say everything he'd thought of for her memorial but couldn't muster the courage to actually speak. Chloe, Jackson and Abe had brought flowers and their condolences, muttering these last to both Jamie's family and to Mitch. He'd accepted the hug Chloe gave him, and nodded as she promised to keep in touch. Abe and Jackson had both patted his shoulder gently, mindful of his still healing injuries. They, too, promised to call. Mitch hadn't heard from any of them in three weeks until Chloe called last night.

Cursing silently, he slowed enough to turn around. Empty promises meant nothing. He needed to do this now.

He knew the path by heart despite having only been here twice. He remembered the first time, feeling awkward and unsure as he shuffled behind Jamie's measured steps. The second time his grief had washed out any awkwardness. The stone had already been set next to her mother's; without a body to bury and the threat of animals lurking everywhere, the Armstrongs had opted for a small service at the cemetery. Still, most of the town had turned out. Mitch had been surprised at the crowd, though he shouldn't have been. Bo had been right - she was so easy to love.

He didn't have flowers to leave, so he stood with his hands clasped in front of him between her name and her mother's. The sky overhead was bright, and Mitch cursed the sunshine as he knelt before the marker on the left.

"Hi," he said, his voice rough as he fought to keep from crying. Her name etched on the stone was like her - larger than life and impossible to ignore. He ran his fingers in the grooves of the letters, tracing the last bit of her left in this world. His fingers caught in the final L and stayed there. He felt foolish for speaking to the cold stone, but he'd done a lot of foolish things for her. He regretted none of them.

"I'm going back to Washington," he said finally. "Chloe said Reiden is being questioned about their involvement in everything." She hadn't given much more detail than that, but she'd sounded confident, and Mitch smiled. "They're finally going to get their comeuppance," he told her grave. "I wish you were here to see it." A breeze rustled the trees in answer. Mitch shook his head at the thought. The dead didn't speak from beyond the grave; it was a silly superstition he refused to give any credence.

But then the wind shifted, bringing with it a familiar aroma. He'd only smelled it a few times, mostly in the beginning weeks of their friendship. Back when she'd still had all of her things, including the fragrant shampoo she'd claimed was the only kind she'd ever use. Necessity had changed that, and at the end of their last adventure they'd been grateful for any type of soap or shampoo to rid themselves of the dirt and grime that had accumulated over several days in the African bush.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the distinctive scent of orange blossoms. He knew that it was just his mind playing tricks on him - the plant wasn't native to this region - but he didn't dare analyze it any further. His eyes closed as the wind whipped through the trees and around his body. He pictured her there, in his mind's eye, and for the first time in weeks she wasn't the horrific visage from his nightmares. She stood before him, her red hair dancing in the breeze and her eyes alight with laughter and love. This was how he wanted to remember her, and he clung to the image as the wind died down. When his eyes opened he felt lighter, more centered, and he rose to his feet as a quiet whisper fell from his lips.

"I love you, Jamie."

He lingered for a few more seconds, then turned and walked back to the car. Remnants of his tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, but he brushed them away as he started the engine. He would go to Washington, testify against Reiden and get justice for both Jamie and her mother.

 _Anik's Home_

 _October 4th_

He settled into a routine as the days stretched on. The woman never woke enough to take care of her own necessities, so Anik had to improvise. The supplies his mother had used for his grandmother were still stashed away down in the basement, and so he'd fished out two pans to place under her as she slept.

She slept all the time.

He did manage to wake her enough each day to eat a bowlful of broth. She was never lucid, and any attempt at conversation ended in silence. His second patient wasn't so quiet.

The cub was growing quickly on the meat he was feeding it. Sometimes the animals living in the surrounding woods came close enough for him to shoot with his crossbow. He cleaned them as much as he dared before tossing bits into the makeshift cage he'd built. It was a small pen inside his basement, but soon the cub would need to be taken outside. Wild things did not do well indoors.

" _Well, little one_ ," he listened as the cub growled and pounced on each piece of meat he tossed in, " _at least one of you seems to be getting better._ "

Anik had hoped the woman would have gotten well enough to at least give her name. She hadn't had any identification on her, and he didn't even know what country she hailed from. Perhaps he could contact someone in town and let them know he'd rescued a woman. Perhaps someone was looking for her?

Yes, he told himself. The next time he was in town he would tell the Mounties about the girl. Until then, he would do his best to care for her and hope she woke up soon.

 _Washington, D.C._

 _October 10th_

 _Indemnity._ Mitch couldn't believe his ears. The gavel struck the podium, punctuating the judge's order and Mitch's anger. _This could not be happening._

Next to him, the others looked just as dumbstruck. Reiden had done it again. Somehow they'd weaseled their way out of responsibility. They almost destroyed the world, and they weren't even getting a slap on the wrist. No, instead they offered to provide the Mother Cell so the cure could be made. They were going to be _heroes_. The thought made him sick.

"I need some air." Mitch pushed away from the table and stalked out the door, ignoring the dozens of reporters gathered at the courtroom door, all scrambling to get the scoop. They shouted his name, a cacophony of voices that Mitch ignored. He pushed through the throng, wincing against the flash of the cameras, and managed to escape out a side door. No one followed him.

The brick was rough under his hands as he leaned against it, braced on both arms and head hung low. _This could not be happening_. Disbelief quickly morphed into a white hot anger, and before he could think about the consequences he balled his fist and pounded the wall in frustration. The pain focused his thoughts, but only enough for the weight of his failure to settle somewhere deep in his soul. He'd failed her.

"Mitch?" It was Chloe, her voice loud in the alley without the normal bustle of the city around them. D.C. was still a ghost town, all of its residents either gone or behind armed guards and gates. Her footsteps measured her slow approach, and Mitch counted each one in an effort to stave off the sting behind his eyelids. Her perfume reminded him of the woman he'd met in that board room so many months ago, confident and eager to lead this team that had been hand-picked for her. Miss Tousignant had been impressive upon first glance, with her haughty features and perfect posture. Mitch had been prepared to despise her.

But when he opened his eyes he just saw Chloe, the woman who had survived Rio with him, who had protected Jamie from Delavane after Ben's death, who had tackled a woman out of an airplane to keep her from killing a man who'd wanted them dead. Somewhere along the way she'd become someone he could call a friend - probably his closest friend after Jamie. Not knowing what had happened to her after Florida had gnawed at him, but more pressing concerns had kept thoughts of Chloe at the back of his mind. He was glad she was alright.

"Mitch?" she called again. His silence was likely worrisome; he wasn't known for keeping his thoughts to himself.

"Yeah," he managed.

"Are you okay?"

He snorted derisively in answer; she knew the answer to that question. He answered it anyway. "No." He turned around and pressed his back against the wall, laying his head back. "But there's nothing we can do about it, is there?"

"No." Chloe sounded defeated. She mimicked his position on the wall and reached for his hand. "You're hurt."

"It's fine," he pulled it away and pushed it into the pocket of his dark slacks. It stung and was probably bleeding, but he didn't care.

"Mitch," she began, then stalled. But he'd heard enough in that one word to set him even more on edge. There was something she knew, something she needed to tell him but didn't want to. He looked at her face and tried to figure out what it was, but he was horrible at reading people. That had been Jamie's thing.

"What is it?"

"They're calling us back in," she said. "The four of us."

"What for?" What else could they possibly say to him now? What could they do?

"They wouldn't say," she said. "But it has something to do with Reiden."

Mitch sneered at the name. Five months ago, he only knew them as the company who provided the new diets for the zoo. They were just another corporation, another corporate name among thousands. Then Jamie Campbell had walked into his life with a friendly smile and a chip on her shoulder. Back then, he couldn't understand how she could despise Reiden so much. Now he understood her ever-present revulsion any time the company was mentioned. He felt like punching the wall all over again.

"Let's get this over with."

He followed her through the halls of the now deserted court house. How long had he been out there? The reporters had fled, some off to find their next scoop, others heading back to their headquarters to write the outcome of this one. They walked past the rows of courtrooms to a large wooden door set at the end of a long hallway. Mitch reached out to hold the door for Chloe as she led him into a meeting room. A long banquet table sat in the center, framed on all sides by tall bookshelves. At the head of the table sat the judge, his black robes nearly blending into the mahogany of the table and the dark brown of the walls. Jackson and Abe sat on the right side of the table. The two chairs next to them were obviously waiting for the remaining members of their team. On the other side sat what Mitch assumed were Reiden's representatives, three men in suits that probably cost more than a year's tuition at UCLA. One of them was Clayton Burke, and the man scowled at Mitch as they entered.

Mitch held Chloe's chair as she sat before taking the one between her and Jackson. Abe sat at the end of the row, his face set in a frown that did not bode well. Whatever had been discussed during his absence, it seemed his friends didn't like it. Still none of them said a word, obviously waiting for Chloe to take the lead.

"We are here," she nodded deferentially to the judge, but refused to look at the men across from her.

"Thank you," Judge Morris offered her a grateful smile. "I'm sure we can all appreciate the necessity for a quick end to this so we can leave before nightfall. Mr. Alwitz?"

The Reiden lawyer sat straighter in his seat and took charge with all the authority of someone who was used to getting his way. "Thank you, Your Honor. I think we can all agree that what's happened is a terrible thing, and Reiden Global is willing to offer whatever aid is necessary to help reverse it." Mitch felt the stirrings of a very large "if" coming on, and he felt his hand clench in a fist beneath the table.

"That's good to hear," Judge Morris nodded. "I don't imagine this sudden altruism is without compensation?"

Alwitz smiled humorlessly at the Judge's less than subtle disdain. "It's simple, Your Honor. Reiden is asking that these four sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement preventing them from mentioning any connection with any incidents involving animals and Reiden Global. Such rumors could damage the public's trust, and prevent Reiden from being able to fully support the effort to make the cure."

"They would withhold the Mother Cell, you mean," Chloe spat.

"Miss Tousignant," Judge Morris warned.

Alwitz continued without missing a beat. "Certainly not. They've already agreed to provide the mineral to aid in the cure effort. But if the public's view of Reiden suddenly turned for the worst, implementing the cure may take weeks, months, or it may not happen at all. I think we can all agree that would be unacceptable. All Reiden is asking for -"

"Is our silence," Mitch finished for him. "They want us to sit down and shut up. Meanwhile, the world gets to see Reiden Global as the company who saved the world, instead of the one who destroyed it."

"That's slander," Burke sneered at Mitch. "And wholly untrue."

"It was your Mother Cell that made all of the animals mutate!" Mitch shouted back.

"Speculation," Burke shook his head. "You have no proof."

"Give me any animal on the planet and your Mother Cell. I'll have your proof in a matter of minutes." Mitch would not let them do this. They were not going to get away with it again. He owed that much to Jamie's memory at least.

"Enough," Judge Morris pounded his hand on the table, startling them and pulling their attention away from each other and back to the matter at hand. "I'll hold both of you in contempt. Mr. Alwitz," he looked at the man on his right, "is this Non-Disclosure Agreement the only requirement?"

"It is." Alwitz slid the paper over to the judge for his perusal.

"In exchange for what?" Chloe asked. "What do we get in return?"

"Your freedom," the third man spoke finally, his voice gruff and stern. He was Hispanic in heritage, his dark age peppered gray with his advanced years. He had the broad frame of an athlete, and the bumps on his nose made Mitch think he might have been a boxer in his youth. Mitch thought he recognized him, but he couldn't supply a name to go with the face.

Judge Morris seemed to sense his confusion, and held out a hand in introduction. "Mr. Guerra represents the US Attorney General's office," he said.

"We're willing to offer the four of you complete prosecutorial immunity for any and all crimes committed during this...incident." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he spoke in a slow, clear tone. "I urge you to accept this deal," he said. "Otherwise, the four of you are looking at facing a number of federal charges, including accessory to the murder of a federal agent."

"An agent on Reiden's payroll," Mitch snapped.

"Agent Ben Schaffer has never been connected with Reiden," Guerra said. "No formal inquiry was ever opened, and to do so now would only dishonor his memory."

"He tried to kill me," Jackson finally said. "Jamie shot him in self-defense."

"And then ran," Guerra turned his piercing eyes on Jackson. "Not exactly the actions of an innocent."

White hot fury erupted in Mitch's chest, and he didn't realize he'd pushed himself to his feet until he felt Chloe's insistent tug on his shirt. "Mitch," she whispered.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," he hissed. "I can't believe you have the audacity to actually think we'd sign this."

Guerra relaxed back in his seat and held out his hands. "If you do not, then you will be arrested immediately upon the conclusion of this meeting and charged with your crimes."

Mitch didn't sit down, but he did make an effort to lower his voice. "That's blackmail."

Burke smiled disarmingly. "I didn't ask, Dr. Morgan. How is your daughter?"

Mitch looked at the man's smug smile and resisted the urge to knock it off his face. But his words had the intended effect, and Mitch sank back into his chair.

Abe chose that moment to enter the conversation. "For the sake of argument," he said with a sidelong glance at Mitch, "what happens if one of us refuses to sign?"

"I understand this is a big decision," Judge Morris took control of the meeting once more. "But the stipulations of the agreement are clear. All four of you must sign, or all four of you will face the charges."

Mitch glared across the table at Burke, his disdain for the man blossoming into something he could only name hate. It was happening again - Reiden was going to come out this without a scratch, and their best chance of getting justice was being taken away from them. Mitch suddenly understood Jamie far better than he ever had before.

Alwitz stood and gathered his briefcase. "We'll step outside to allow you to discuss this. We need a decision today." The others followed suit, leaving the four of them sitting in the briefing room alone.

"What do we do?" Chloe asked plainly.

"Do we really have a choice?" Jackson answered. "If we don't sign, we go to jail."

"So we let them get away with it," Mitch translated coldly.

"Look, I'm not saying it because I like it," Jackson swiveled his chair slightly to look at Mitch better. His left arm was still in a sling, and his face was dotted with small pink marks that were the only remnants of the cuts and bruises he'd received from the crash. "And if it was just us, then I'd be willing to spend a few years in jail in exchange for being able to tell the truth. But the animals still aren't cured, and we're the only ones who know how to stop it. We can't do that from inside a jail cell."

Mitch bristled at his words, words he had once spoken to Jamie after Ben Schaffer's death. She had balked at them; Mitch just felt weary.

Chloe laid her hand on his forearm, her long fingers pressing into his skin to pull his attention from Jackson. "I understand why this is so upsetting," she said. "Jamie spent her life fighting Reiden, and ultimately died doing it. If you feel that signing this document would dishonor her memory, then I am willing to face the charges."

It was a simple thing, her unwavering support, but in the end they were enough to tip the scales. Mitch sagged back in his seat and covered his face with his hand to push back the tears in his eyes. "No," he said finally. "No, sign it. Jackson's right. Refusing to be silenced, going to jail - it's the righteous thing to do, but it isn't the right one." Then, with some difficulty, he added, "Jamie wouldn't want us to stop fighting. We'll find another way to get the story out." Despite his words, it felt like a betrayal. Worse yet, Mitch would have to find a way to explain this to Bo and Fran. He'd promised them that he would make Reiden pay, that he would find a way to bring meaning to Jamie's death.

"Are you sure?" Abe asked. By his tone, Mitch guessed he agreed with Chloe. The thought that his friends were willing to rot in a cell for Jamie was enough to clear any last traces of hesitation.

"I'm sure," he said, lifting his head to meet Abe's eyes. "We need to make the cure and stop this before it gets any worse."

Abe nodded and stood, moving the short distance to open the door. Alwitz and the others stood a respectable distance from the door, but as it opened they turned with expectant glances. Abe said nothing, just turned to go back to his seat as the men filed into the room. Once they were seated, Chloe turned to Judge Morris and uttered three words that etched themselves like a record groove into Mitch's heart. He knew he would hear them replayed over and over again in his nightmares, accompanied by a pair of accusing blue eyes.

"We will sign."

 _Washington D.C._

 _November 12th_

Mitch gasped awake, his sheets soaked in sweat as the echoes of his nightmare faded into the darkness. It had been the same one every night for the last month, and it always ended the same - blue eyes clouded in death staring endlessly from a dark abyss. It had been enough to drive him to drink, finding the only solace he could at the bottom of a whiskey glass. The dive bar three blocks over was his new home from early afternoon until closing time. Then it was a short jaunt to his new apartment, where he passed out on the couch and prayed for a dreamless sleep.

He'd been given a modest one bedroom apartment near the complex, just a few floors away from Jackson. It was spartan, almost bare, but it was free so long as Mitch agreed to supply the newly appointed International Animal Defense Group (and _that's_ not pretentious at all) with the instructions to make the cure. He'd also been asked to oversee the initial process when they finally acquired a leopard, whenever that was. Jackson said there was a team on the ground in Zambia. So far they'd been unsuccessful in tracking down the animals that had ravaged the area and sent the region into total chaos. Mitch wondered how long it would take for the leopards to find them.

Thunder rumbled outside, and a flash of lightning illuminated his living room for an instant. Papers littered the flimsy coffee table, along with a netbook that contained the entirety of Mitch's notes from the last six months. He'd had to recall a lot of it from memory, and in the end it read more like a journal than a series of scientific notes. The latest entries contained the chemical formula for the Mother Cell as well as the world's best guess as to the current population remaining. The numbers were staggering - animals had wiped out millions of people in just five months, mostly in rural and underdeveloped areas. Major cities like Los Angeles were now ghost towns due to mass evacuations, and a large portion of those people now lived in safe zones dotted across the country.

His mother lived in in one such zone. He'd called her several times to check on her, and every time she would try to get him to talk about what had happened. She knew there had been a plane crash, and she knew one of his friends had been killed. She had been sad to hear that it had been the girl who'd sent Ethan for her - a nice young man who resided just a few doors down from her now. Mitch wondered if his mother could hear just how devastated he was, how deeply Jamie's loss had hurt him. He guessed so; mothers had an odd sense where there children were concerned.

Clem, Audra and Justin had been settled in one of the more remote zones in Maine, and Mitch had chatted with his daughter via video a few times. She always asked when she could go home, and every time Mitch gave her the same answer. Soon.

The clock on the microwave told him it was too early to get up, but there was no way he was getting back to sleep now. He pulled a ceramic mug from the cupboard and filled it from the gallon of filtered water he had stashed in his fridge. Utilities were hit and miss (his electricity had gone out three times in the past two weeks) and he didn't trust the water from the tap. He zapped it in the microwave until it was near boiling, then added one of the teabags from the tin that had been a housewarming gift from Chloe. It was supposed to be good for calming the nerves - Mitch just liked the taste.

As he sipped the scalding liquid he thought about the first time he'd tasted it. Fran had a tin in her cupboard, a remnant of Jamie's leftover from the last time she'd lived there. The woman had thought it fitting that she share the last of it with the man who had loved her niece so fiercely.

After the hearing, Mitch had thought telling Jamie's family about the outcome was the worse thing he could imagine. He'd been wrong. Fran's quiet understanding and reassurance had cut him more deeply than forcing the words past his lips. She'd told him he had done the best he could by Jamie and that he shouldn't feel guilty for things that were beyond his control. Mitch wondered how many times she'd given Jamie the same council.

 _Dalton's Bar_

 _November 29th_

Mitch tapped the rim of his glass and waited for Dalton to oblige. The man eyed him carefully, sizing him up in that way only bartenders seemed to possess before reaching for the bottle beneath the counter.

"How come you're still open, Dalton?" Mitch asked. He was consciously aware of the slurring that came with copious amounts of alcohol. He tried to enunciate, but he guessed from Dalton's amused expression that he'd failed.

"Because people like you still come in."

"People like me," Mitch repeated slowly. "Are there other people like me? I mean, my mom always said I was unique. One of a kind." He frowned into his glass, then upended the dark contents into his mouth. The whiskey had numbed most of his senses, but it still burned going down his throat. "Sometimes I think that's a good thing. That there's only one of me. I screw up pretty much everything I touch, so…" He tapped the rim again, asking silently for more, but Dalton just sighed.

The glass of water he set on the counter told Mitch he was done for the evening.

"You're no fun," Mitch grumbled, but took a sip of the cold water anyway. It tasted clean, and the icy liquid felt good on his throat. He took another sip. "S'pose you gotta make sure I don't die of alcohol poisoning. I'm your only customer."

"Drink all of that before you go home," Dalton ordered.

"Sure." Mitch took another sip, then started again on his earlier rant. "You ever meet anyone who destroys everything they touch?"

Dalton wiped down the bar more out of habit than necessity before leaning against it. "Before this animal thing? Everyday."

Mitch snorted at that and took a larger gulp. He felt a surge of nausea, but he forced it down along with the water. "Not like I can. I had it, Dalton. The real thing. She was warm, and real, and I held her in my arms. Then it all went to hell and I lost her. Just like that." He tried to snap, but his fingers didn't really work the way he wanted them to.

"What was her name?"

Mitch swallowed thickly, his nausea returning tenfold as her face swam in his mind's eye. "Jamie."

"Jamie," Dalton repeated. "I'm sorry, Mitch. It's a rare thing, when you find it. My Annette was killed in a car wreck about ten years ago. A stupid kid with a hot rod who decided to race on the freeway - that's what took her away from me. I spent about five years in the bottle before I realized she wouldn't want me to spend my life that way. She'd want me to be happy. So I got sober, and everyday I look at her picture and remind myself why I get out of bed every morning."

"And now you serve us poor schmucks who aren't quite as enlightened. Noble." Mitch saluted him with his glass and took another drink of water. It was doing its job fairly well; the numbness was wearing off.

"You gotta find a reason to continue," Dalton shrugged and pushed away from the bar. "Especially now."

"I only have one," he held up his pointer finger and wagged it slowly. "And because of a stupid...thing, I can't talk about it." Apparently even completely trashed his brain was keen on self-preservation. The non-disclosure agreement had been very explicit. If he uttered a word about Reiden's involvement to anyone, if he mentioned the gag order, then it would be nullified and he would go to prison. And so would the others.

He pushed up from his barstool and dug into his pocket for his wallet. The IADG gave him a monthly stipend that he usually spent here. Mitch absently wondered if he was single-handedly paying Dalton's rent. Then he remembered that most folks these days didn't pay rent. They just survived. He dropped three twenties on the bar and turned for the bathroom. Bomba the pug sat in his customary place at the end of the bar, his small dog bed occupying a good portion of the surface. Mitch scratched the pup behind the ears as he passed. At first the dog's presence had thrown him, but after several weeks with no sign of aggression, Mitch accepted Bomba's place here at Dalton's.

The barkeep was wiping down tables when he emerged from the bathroom a little more clear-headed. It was a ten minute walk back to his apartment, and the less muddled his brain was the better. He'd hate for his friends to discover he'd been murdered by feral cats because he was too drunk to think clearly.

Not that he'd heard from any of them since the trial. _Not fair_ , his brain argued. Chloe had tried, she really had. She'd helped him get settled, set up his stipend and kept him in the loop regarding the cure efforts. But every time she tried to pry further, to lend her ear as a friend or a shoulder to cry on, Mitch shut down. He didn't want to talk about it, he told her. He was fine.

"See you tomorrow, Dalton." Mitch shoved his hands in his pockets and pushed the door open with his shoulder. Autumn was slowly giving way to winter, and the wind was bitter and cold after the sun went down. Now, well after midnight, Mitch could see his breath fogging the air as he breathed. The cold banished the last of the haze from his head, and as he crossed the street he couldn't help but think how much Jamie would hate this place. She loved beaches and warm country nights. She loved thick blankets and hot tea and scalding showers. He remembered how she would layer her clothes, even in the heat of the African sun. He remembered the piles of blankets in the tent when he went to sleep.

She would hate this place.

 _Mitch's Apartment_

 _December 20th_

It had been so long since someone had called his phone, he damn near forgot he had one at all. He glanced at the screen, scowled at the unknown caller label and almost didn't answer it. Then he remembered his promise to Chloe to help with the cure, and he figured it was one of their scientists. He picked up on the fifth ring.

"Mitch Morgan."

"Doctor Morgan?" The feminine voice on the other end sounded so much like Jamie that for a moment his heart stopped beating. Then she continued. "My name is Anne Brevers, I'm a reporter with _The Post_. Could I have a moment of your time?"

He couldn't help it. He knew Miss Brevers probably thought him a lunatic, but Mitch could not contain the harsh bark of laughter that erupted from his throat.

"Do all reporters have a script they have to use when contacting people?" he asked bluntly. Because her words had been nearly identical to the ones Jamie had used on her first phone call with him. In fact, other than her name and the name of the paper, it was verbatim.

"I'm sorry?"

"Never mind," Mitch's amusement quickly faded. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping to interview you," she answered succinctly. "I understand you're one of the people responsible for creating the cure for the animals. I'd like to hear your story."

His story. How much of it could he tell without mentioning Reiden? Surely she'd notice if he hedged his answers. But when would an opportunity like this come again? Maybe if he placed the right kind of clues, she would dig a little deeper on her own to find the truth. But could he risk the freedom of his friends for the chance?

"Doctor Morgan?"

"Okay," he agreed.

"Should I meet you at your office?"

Mitch glanced around at his apartment, decided it was in no fit state for guests, and shook his head. "No office," he told her. "But I have an address we can meet at."

He gave her the address for Dalton's, and when he walked in she was already sitting at the bar. Dalton seemed genuinely happy to have someone different to serve, and as Mitch approached them the bartender laughed in a way he'd never heard before.

"Nice to see someone else putting up with this old goat for a change," Mitch slid onto his barstool (yes it was _his_ , thank you very much) and ordered a whiskey with a single gesture. "Mitch Morgan."

"Anne Brevers," she took his proffered hand firmly. She was attractive, Mitch couldn't deny that. And there was something in the tilt of her head and the look in her eye that made him think there must be some sort of class during college where reporters and journalists learn interviewing techniques. Or maybe it was because she reminded him so much of _her_ , with her angular face and wavy hair and her directness. "Thank you for meeting with me."

"Sure," he shrugged one shoulder and accepted the drink Dalton placed in front of him. "Want something?"

"No, thank you," Brevers shook her head. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small device - a digital voice recorder, Mitch noticed. Some of his students had used them during his class to get every single detail in his often overly lengthy lectures. "Doctor Morgan," she began, "how did you first get involved with this whole thing?"

"I was approached by a man," Mitch told her, "in a bar a lot like this one, actually. He said he had been sent to recruit me to a team of people hand picked to help with a global crisis. I thought he was probably drunker than me, so I ignored him. He was, however, quite persistent."

"The man," Brevers pressed, "did he tell you his name?"

Mitch almost blurted it out, but then he remembered who the man had worked for and clamped down on the urge. "George...something," Mitch drained his drink and slid it back to Dalton for a refill. "He put me on a plane to D.C., where the rest of the team was waiting."

"The rest of the team. You mean Chloe Tousignant, Jackson Oz, Abraham Kenyatta, and Jamie Campbell?"

"You've done your homework," he saluted her with his newly filled glass. "Yes, there were five of us. We went all over the world following reports of odd animal behavior, trying to narrow down what was wrong. Ultimately, we managed to figure out it was an aberrant mutation causing their aggression."

"A mutation that caused animals to start attacking and killing humans," Brevers rephrased. "Sounds like something out of a science fiction novel."

"Yeah, I guess it does," Mitch agreed.

"How did you first discover the cure?" Brevers asked.

"Well, first we had to identify what was causing the behavior inside the animals' brains. Then we got a hold of a catalyst -"

"The Mother Cell," Brevers interrupted. "That's the mineral they're using now to develop the cure?"

"Right," Mitch went on. "It speeds up chemical processes. We used it to develop the cure."

"Did you know from the beginning you would be saving the world?"

Mitch toasted her point. "When we first assembled, I think we were all pretty dubious. No one more than me," he added.

"Do you have any thoughts about Reiden Global?" There was something in her tone, something that nudged urgently at the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

He cut his eyes to her and tried to keep his tone disinterested. "Why would I have any thoughts about Reiden Global?" His glass was empty, but thankfully he had a friend who could remedy that. "Dalton, can I get a…?" He tapped the rim of his glass.

But Brevers was not deterred. "Just about the rumors floating around that Reiden cut a deal with the government." There it was - the opening he was looking for. He hadn't sought her out, hadn't said anything. Her voice recording would verify that. Still, she seemed to know all about what had happened in the courtroom despite the moratorium on the press. The question was, how much did she know?

"What kind of deal?"

"To provide your now-famous Mother Cell in an effort to concoct the cure."

She was good. Almost as good as Jamie. She had the tenacity and spirit to match her, anyway. He wanted to tell her all of it, but the NDA hung over his head like the Sword of Damocles. But maybe he could point her in the right direction. "Why would they do that?"

Brevers seemed to have this answer, too. She'd certainly done her homework. "Well, because in return the government agreed to indemnify Reien and all of its corporate holdings from any malfeasance in connection with the, uh…" Here she trailed off, and Mitch let out a mirthless huff of laughter.

"Yeah, they still haven't come up with an adequate name for it, have they? Maybe you should come up with one. That'd put you on the journalistic map, wouldn't it?" Unbidden, he remembered Brazil, and Jamie's conversation with Luca. "How about the Beast Rebellion? That's pretty good, no?"

"The rumors don't end there," Brevers kept on, her voice now laced with an edge that hadn't been there before. "There's talk that you and your friends were forced to sign a non-disclosure agreement in exchange for prosecutorial immunity from the crimes that were committed during the course of your...adventure."

Her almost smug omniscience was beginning to grate on Mitch's nerves. "Okay, this isn't just a puff piece on the gentleman scientist who saved the world, is it?"

The first crack in Brevers' bravado began to form, and she dropped her eyes slightly. There was something that reminded Mitch so much of Jamie, of that evening in his lecture hall when he realized her interest in Reiden Global was far more than professional.

"Not really, no," Brevers admitted. After a moment's hesitation, she spoke three words that cut through the numbness that had seeped into his soul. "And Jamie Campbell?"

It took everything in him to keep from sneering at the casual use of her name. "What about her?" He was proud of the way his voice didn't waver.

"Well, this was her white whale, wasn't it? Her obsession? Reiden?" There it was again, that _something_ that set his back up.

"That would be tragic, wouldn't it?" Mitch downed the rest of his drink. "All she wanted to do was bring down Reiden. Expose them." _Screw the NDA_ , he thought bitterly. "And she did. She died doing it. And now here I am - here we are. We can't say a damn thing, which means all she ever really cared about essentially died with her, didn't it?" He hadn't meant for all of that to come spilling out, but he'd never been particularly good at self-restraint where Jamie Campbell was concerned.

"It is true?" Brevers seemed to completely ignore the fact that she was ripping his heart out by lingering. "Have you been silenced?" _That was it_. She just needed verification of the rumors she'd heard, a source she could use to get the scoop of the century. Because the only thing bigger than the fact that Reiden was responsible for the devastation that had befallen the world was the fact that they had silenced the only possible opposition to their story. And Brevers was looking to make her bones with this scoop. His annoyance with her was quickly ramping up to something resembling indignation.

"She was a reporter, too."

There was no doubt to whom he was referring, and Brevers nodded. "I know."

"And the thing that made her a good reporter was that she understood tenacity and compassion don't have to be mutually exclusive."

She seemed to have finally realized she'd hit a nerve. "I didn't mean -"

"I know," Mitch set his glass down and pushed back. "You should go. Maybe you can get one of those urban transport thugs to bring you home. What with the Beast Rebellion and all."

"Okay." She reached out and keyed off her recorder, stowing in her bag next to her notebook and pen. She stood, but she didn't leave. "Tell me one last thing. Would you say that all hope is lost? That things are only gonna get worse?" She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she shifted her weight. "Is all hope, in fact, lost?"

He wanted to tell her no. He wanted to mutter something uplifting about hope never dying as long as they believed. But the words wouldn't come. And he knew as she turned and walked away without her answer that it was because his own hope had been swallowed by the cold, cruel depths of the ocean.

 _Anik's Home_

 _December 29th_

It was like waking up from a dream and wondering if you were still asleep. Jamie's eyes fluttered open, but her mind refused to work as quickly. Her eyelids felt heavy, and for a moment she felt the soft blankets and the pile of pillows beneath her head and thought she was home. Aunt Fran had always gone overboard when any of them were sick, piling blankets upon blankets and plying them with homemade soup and vitamins until they were better.

But something was wrong. Her aunt and uncle didn't have wood-paneled walls, and the way the house creaked was unfamiliar. Her eyes seemed to finally focus and though her brain was still trying to work through whatever haze had settled over her, she was awake enough to know something was wrong.

Her neck was stiff as she moved it, as if it hadn't been used in a while. Her arms were next, unusually heavy but still functional. The pain in her neck was beginning to trickle downward as she slowly became aware of the rest of her body. Her first conscious thought was almost ludicrous in its randomness.

 _This is not my shirt_.

The sleeves were far too long, for one, and it appeared well-worn. Still, she supposed it was better than being naked (though who had changed her into her new clothes was still a mystery).

Jamie used her elbows to sit, pushing up as the soreness spread to her chest and back. Her muscles quaked with the movement, and for a moment she was afraid they would give out all together and send her back into her pillows. But they didn't, and the breath she was holding rushed out as she moved the quilt from her legs.

A large white bandage around her right leg stopped her cold. It was just above her knee, wrapped several layers thick. She ran her hands over it experimentally as she tried to remember how she'd been injured. Or when.

It was like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle together with all of the pieces facing the wrong way. Slowly, though, her mind was beginning to flip those pieces and fill in the blanks. She'd been on a plane. She'd been with her friends. She'd screamed. She'd been cold. And the pain had been so intense she couldn't breathe.

She pushed her weight to her feet, or at least tried to. Pain lanced up her right leg, and it refused to hold her. She tumbled to the floor with a cry of pain. Her distress had alerted someone, and footsteps heralded the arrival of whoever had saved her. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders, supporting her as she tried to stand. She let them deposit her onto the bed before she turned to face her savior.

"Who are you?" He was older, with a round face and a friendly smile. Still, Jamie had been suckered by a friendly face before. "Where am I?"

She knew he spoke - she could see his lips moving and hear the rumble of his voice - but she couldn't understand him. Her panic rose as she realized she was in an unknown place with a strange man who apparently didn't speak a word of English. And where the hell were the others?

"What?" she shook her head. "I don't...I don't know what you're saying." The man stared blankly back at her, clearly as unable to understand her as she was him. "I was on a plane," she kept trying. "There were other people with me. Are they okay?" _Was Mitch okay?_ Her tongue tripped over her words as fear and desperation swelled in her. "Th-there was a, um, a leopard. A small leopard cub. It's very important that I find him. Is he okay?" The man said nothing, and Jamie felt like crying. "Do you understand me? You don't understand me." A loud gust of wind whistled outside, drawing the man's attention and causing Jamie to turn. "What?"

White-capped mountains loomed in the distance, barely visible in the growing darkness outside. Snow fell in flurries, blown about by the wind to coat the trees and ground. Suddenly, finding out where she was and where her friends were became insignificant in the face of the question that now flooded her thoughts.

"How long have I been here?" she breathed. When they'd left Africa it had been nearing the end of summer in the Northern Hemisphere. Unless something had pushed them way off course she was likely still north of the Equator, but judging from the picture through her window it was summer no longer.

Her friends were probably worried. No, scratch that. Her friends probably thought she was _dead_.

"I need to find a phone," she turned back around and sought his eyes, trying to get through to him. "I need to make a phone call." She moved to stand up, supporting her weight on her good leg, but the man intercepted her. "A phone call."

She didn't understand his words but she did understand the meaning behind them. He didn't want her getting up. "I-I need a phone," she pleaded. He shook his head and kept speaking over her, gently pushing her until she was back on the bed. "I need a phone. Can you help me find a phone?" He kept pushing. "Can you help me? Please?" But it was useless. He grabbed the quilt, tugging it slightly before stepping back. He held his hands up, pushing slightly in the universal gesture of "stay." He kept his eyes on her as he backed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. A heartbeat later she heard a lock slide into place.

It was clear to Jamie now that she wasn't his patient - she was his prisoner.

She made herself count to thirty before she stood, bracing her weight against the nightstand until she was sure she could manage it. She clenched her teeth against the pain and managed to hobble to the door. She tried the knob futilely, knowing it wouldn't open but daring to try anyway. It didn't budge. She leaned her ear against the wood, listening for any indication where her captor might be. She heard the clink of something that sounded like dishes far away and assumed he was making himself dinner. Her stomach growled at the thought.

She needed to get out here, find a phone, and call Mitch - if he was even alive. It was a horrifying thought, one that sent a chill down her spine. Her breath caught in a way that had nothing to do with the stabbing pain her leg. He could be gone. Forever.

 _Stop it, Jamie_.

It did her no good to dwell on those thoughts. She needed to escape. Through her door, she heard boots tromping around downstairs, then an outer door opened and closed. Jamie made her way to the window, kneeling on her good leg to peer out.

The man was walking across his yard, past what looked like large piles of junk. She hadn't noticed it before, but Jamie could clearly see the fence that surrounded the whole property. She watched as the man systematically checked each lock, tugging and making sure it held. One didn't, and he reached for something on his belt. _Keys_. He had the keys to the locks on his belt.

A plan formed in her mind. She looked around for something she could use as a weapon but found nothing. She'd have to do it by hand, then. After Ben Schaffer had assaulted her in the hotel room, Jamie had researched self-defense moves in her down time. She wished she'd had the forethought to ask Chloe or Abe to teach her, but what little she'd been able to memorize would have to do.

She heard the man come back inside, stomping his boots to rid them of snow and dirt. More dishes clinked, and Jamie hoped he was getting something to bring to her. Quickly, she grabbed the blankets and molded them on the bed to look like a person sleeping. It wouldn't pass close inspection, but she didn't need it to. She just needed him to come inside. Breath held, she waited for his footfalls on the stairs. When they came, she moved to the closet and pulled the door to.

His knock came politely just before he opened the door. She couldn't see his face, but the tone of his voice told her he was smiling. She waited until he turned to set the tray down on the table to make her move. The door creaked and Jamie winced, but it was too late now. She was committed. He turned at the sound and Jamie lashed out, striking him with the heel of her hand. He cried out and fell back onto the bed stunned. Jamie fumbled for his keys, thankful when they came off the first time.

She heard his protests as she dashed for the stairs, her leg screaming with each step. Adrenaline kept her moving across the kitchen and out the door. She made it almost to the fenceline when he emerged from the house, calling out something that she guessed was meant to make her stop. She didn't.

Her fingers were already numbing in the cold air, and when she grabbed the lock it was like ice. Still she didn't stop as she searched for the right key. Jamie glanced over her shoulder frantically but didn't stop her search.

 _There!_

The key turned in the lock, and she shoved the gate open as the man's shouts grew louder. She took three, maybe four steps before a chorus of growls stopped her short. A bear loomed in the darkness, and at the sight of Jamie he reared up on two legs. A pack of wolves charged, and Jamie froze. This was it; she survived a plane crash only to be taken out by wildlife in an unknown wilderness.

Hands seized her shoulders and pulled her backwards. She cried out as her bad leg took most of her weight and she fell to the ground, but it beat the alternative. The old man slammed the gate just as the wolves crashed against it, snarling and snapping viciously.

"Yah!" the man raised his arms in angry defiance as the beasts continued their assault. Jamie watched in fascinated horror as the realization washed over her.

"You were protecting me," she breathed. "You were protecting me."

He turned to help her up, careful of her right leg. Jamie allowed him to bear her weight and she used him as a crutch as they made their way back to the house. Compared to the freezing snow outside, his kitchen felt like a sauna but Jamie still shivered. He said something to her that sounded soothing, and as he passed her his hand on her shoulder was warm and comforting.

When he returned he settled a heavy blanket on her shoulders, and Jamie clutched the corners tightly around her as he moved to the stove. There was water still in the kettle, and he relit the stove and began preparing a mug of tea. Jamie could hear her heart pounding and fought for something to drown it out.

"Thank you," she said. "For saving me." The man turned with a smile and a nod; he knew her tone, if not her words. "What's your name?" He nodded again, and Jamie realized he didn't understand. She let go of the blanket to lay a hand on her chest. "Jamie."

The kettle whistled, and he used a towel to lift it from the burner and pour her tea. He brought the mug to her and pushed it into her hands with another smile. "Anik."

"Anik," Jamie repeated. "Thank you, Anik."

 _IADG Headquarters_

 _January 4th_

Mitch kept his head down as he navigated the maze of corridors in what had once been some sort of office building. Amelia Sage and her team had converted it for their purposes months ago, before they contacted Chloe, before they recruited Delavane from underneath Reiden's nose. And _that_ had been a shock. Seeing the man walking freely among them still irritated him, but so long as Chloe said he was being useful then Mitch could ignore him.

The war room was little more than a small meeting room converted for the purpose. A reinforced door with an expensive digital lock had replaced the simple wooden one, and Mitch fumbled in his pocket for his key card as he approached. The light turned green and he turned the handle a little harder than necessary, announcing his presence so he didn't actually have to say anything.

Chloe turned at the sound, and her already smiling face brightened even more when she saw him. Her excitement was palpable as she dashed over. "We got one."

"I heard," Mitch nodded. "We sure it's viable?"

"The team is preparing it for transport now," Chloe led him back to a very fancy series of screens and consoles. Amelia Sage was overseeing the final stages, barking orders into a headset as Chloe pointed out the team's location on the map.

"They found it here," she said. "That's within the zone you gave us."

Mitch had mapped out an area in Zambia where they were likely to find leopards that had not been tainted by Reiden Global. It was a small area. "How long before it arrives?"

"Twelve hours," Sage answered, turning from the console. "In twelve hours we'll have the leopard."

"Then in twelve and a half hours, you'll have the cure." Mitch crossed his arms over his chest and turned to Chloe. "Why did you call me here now?"

Her excitement turned to guilt, and Mitch dropped his arms and turned for the door. Chloe followed. "Mitch, wait." He stopped in the hall, and Chloe closed the door to the war room behind her. "I haven't seen you in weeks," she admitted. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"You could have called."

"You stopped answering my calls," she replied.

Mitch leaned back against the wall and resumed his previous posture. "Yeah, well, I've been busy."

Chloe didn't try to mask her eyeroll. "Doing what? Drinking yourself to an early grave?" Mitch scoffed but Chloe persisted. "Don't think I don't know what you do in your spare time. Jackson says you're never home when he knocks."

Mitch smirked. "Sometimes I am, I just don't answer."

"Mitch!" Chloe's tone was half-admonishment, half-amusement. Mitch thought he saw a smile on her face, but she turned away so he couldn't see. "It's been four months since the crash."

"Four months and thirteen days," he corrected.

When she turned back her face had soften to something resembling sympathy. "Four months and thirteen days. It's time to move on, Mitch."

He shoved off the wall so quickly she had to twist to avoid being overrun by him. He stalked away from her, but knew he'd never get far. She was persistent.

"Mitch, please talk to me," her legs were just as long as his and kept up with his pace easily.

"There's nothing to talk about," he growled, turning a corner sharply. Chloe adjusted her gait and matched him again.

"Of course there is," she pushed. "Otherwise you wouldn't be so miserable."

"So what?" He stopped abruptly and whirled on her. She didn't back away from his sneer. "I tell you all of my deepest, darkest feelings and suddenly I feel oh so much better? Is that it?"

" _Rien ne pèse tant qu'un secret_ ," she whispered. He remembered enough of their time together in Rio to understand her words.

"What do you want me to say?" he shouted. "That I miss her every damn day? That I can't close my eyes without seeing her face?" Mitch swallowed thickly, surprised by his own words. Now that he'd begun, he couldn't seem to stop. "That I do everything I can not to fall asleep, and when I inevitably lose that fight I relive the crash over and over. I hear her calling for me, and there's not a damn thing I can do to save her. I can't count the number of times I've started to dial her number, only to realize nobody's gonna answer it. Every time it feels like someone's ripping my heart out of my chest." Chloe's face began to blur as his eyes filled with tears. Mitch was thankful there wasn't anyone around to witness this.

"We all miss her," Chloe reached out and took his hand, "but none of us loved her like you did. I can't imagine what you are going through, but I want to help you. Tell me what to do."

Mitch mouthed moved, opening and closing again as he fought for something to say. Nothing came. Nothing but more tears. Chloe moved quickly, wrapping her arms around him as he broke, sobbing into her shoulder as months of pent up grief and helplessness finally erupted. It crashed over him like an ocean wave, cresting and breaking against his ribs as he clung tightly to the only anchor he could find. Chloe, for her part, didn't utter a word. She just let him cry, and when he was finished she stepped back and waited for him to compose himself.

"Feel better?"

Mitch cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah," he muttered.

"Good," she seemed not to feel any of the awkward embarrassment that was now creeping up his cheeks. "I need to call Jackson and tell him we found the leopards. You will be alright getting home?"

"Uh, yeah," Mitch sniffed and straightened up. "I'll have one of Sage's goons drive me."

"They are international crisis agents, not goons," Chloe teased. "Be safe."

"You, too." He watched her leave, waiting until she was out of sight before turning to go. Despite his cathartic release, he still felt a heaviness in his soul that would probably never go away. _And_ , Mitch thought as he stepped out into the early evening air, _there's only one place to go for that._

Two hours later Mitch picked himself up off of the pool table. His lip was busted and his nose was bleeding, but nothing was broken. Who knew businessmen could throw down like that? Dalton was on the ground groaning from the blow he'd taken coming to Mitch's defense. Mitch thought he shouldn't have bothered.

"You alright?" He held out a hand for the older man, pulling him to stand as his own ribs protested the movement. They had healed up just fine, but the three (or was it four?) punches he'd taken had reminded him that they'd been broken rather recently.

"Fine, fine," Dalton waved him off and stooped down to pick up the crowbar he'd grabbed. "You're lucky he didn't shoot you."

"Waste of ammo," Mitch waved off his gruff concern. "Besides, I expected Bomba here to come to my aid." The pug whined and laid his head down, promptly ignoring Mitch's offended scoff.

"Well, you probably saved his life," Dalton reached down and grabbed a bottle of dark liquid. "Drinks are on me tonight."

No one else came in the rest of the night, though Mitch guessed that had something to do with the recent zoo breakout than anything. Still, he supposed the ones who'd scurried away at the sight of a gun wouldn't be back.

"Well, Bomba," he sipped on the water Dalton had set in front of him, "looks like it's just me and you again."

"Closing time, man." Dalton had already wiped down the tables and the bar. All that was left was Mitch's dirty glass.

"Yeah, I know."

"You'll be able to get home alright?"

"Oh yeah," Mitch shrugged on the jacket he'd discarded earlier. "What can the animals do to me that the humans haven't done already?" His phone rang from deep within his pocket, and he reached in and fished it out. The screen was blank - an unknown number again - and he pressed the green button before he could talk himself into ignoring it.

"Mitch Morgan, totally awesome scientist." It was his new greeting, courtesy of Chloe herself. She'd reprimanded him for his lack of professionalism whenever he talked to the team of scientists. He'd promised (with his tongue in his cheek) to do better.

"Mitch?" A ghost spoke through the line, and every hair on the back of his neck stood up. "Mitch can you hear me? It's me. It's Jamie."

A dozen nameless emotions warred in his chest, all fighting to burst through with the pounding of his heart. This wasn't possible, his rational mind argued.

"No it isn't," he denied. "Jamie's dead. Who...who is this? You don't even sound like her." It was a lie. The voice on the other end of the line sounded so much like her that he had to clench his jaw to keep from weeping. This was impossible; Jamie simply couldn't be alive. It went against everything he knew to be true as a man of science and a man of reason.

"Okay, are you gonna stop being an ass for a second and listen to me? It is me. I am alive. And I'm really glad you are, too."

She'd always been the exception to the rule.

The pressure in his chest finally burst, and hope blossomed once more like a flower emerging through winter snows. "It really is you." He didn't bother hiding his tears. They ran unchecked down his face as he pressed the phone against his ear.

"It's really good to hear your voice." He could hear her tears, too, and as he echoed the sentiment a sound sweeter than anything danced over the line. She laughed.

"I still have it," she said. "I still have the leopard. I have the cure."

Two miracles, then. "Okay, uh..." he took a moment to process her words. Chloe had called him earlier that evening to tell him the leopard they'd gotten today wasn't viable. She had promised to call back if anything changed, but he could hear the desperation in her voice. This had been their last chance. Until now. "You still have it."

"The man who saved me, he must have pulled the crate out of the ocean when he found me." She sounded good, healthy, and Mitch finally realized she'd been gone for six months.

"Where the hell are you?"

"Canada, according to the maps," she answered. "New Brunswick." She was less than a thousand miles away.

"And you just now got to a phone?" He didn't mean to sound so angry, but the relief that had permeated every cell in his body was slowly dissipating, leaving something darker in its wake. She'd been so close this whole time, and he'd had no idea.

Jamie seemed to understand, but there was an edge in her voice when she answered. "Anik doesn't speak English, but from what I've been able to guess I've been in and out of consciousness for most of it. My leg's just about healed and -"

"Your leg?" Mitch's frustration quickly evaporated at the reminder that she'd survived the same plane crash that had killed forty-seven people. _Forty-six_ , his mind corrected happily.

"Yeah," she replied. "A piece of the fuselage embedded in my thigh during the crash. I couldn't put any weight on it for a while, but it's getting better." There was a beat of silence, but she went on before he could fill it. "Where are you?"

"D.C., actually," he said. "We all are. Things have been...bad."

"Anik doesn't have a TV or any other way to contact the outside world other than this satellite phone. What's going on?"

He opened his mouth to tell her everything, but he just couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her over the phone that Reiden hadn't been indicted, or even reprimanded for their part in the animal crisis. He couldn't tell her they were _leading_ the global initiative for the cure. And he certainly couldn't tell her about their gag order.

He settled for a half-truth. "There's too much to tell you in one phone call. Do you know where you are exactly?"

"Yeah," he heard her shuffling some papers. "Uh, the map here is not very detailed, but it looks like we're about fifteen miles south of Caraquet."

"South?"

"South-ish," she corrected. "Look, I'm not a military navigator. It's like a few degrees left of due south, just on the other side of a river."

"Okay," he stood up and started for the door. "I'm gonna contact the others and let them know, then we're coming to get you."

"Okay. Can you do me a favor before you leave?"

"Anything," he promised.

"Can you have someone call my aunt and uncle to let them know I'm not dead?"

He grinned then, the first he'd felt stretch his face in a long time. "I'll do it myself." He stopped at the door, suddenly overwhelmed by the last few moments. He reached out to steady himself against the wall as the world spun. "I'm just...I still can't believe...you have no idea how happy I am right now."

"Oh, I think I do," she was smiling, too.

"I love you." He blurted it so fast, he thought she might have missed it for the silence that stretched on. Then he heard her hiccuping sobs on the other end and he knew she'd heard him.

"I love you, too, Mitch. Hurry."

"I will. If I can threaten enough people, I'll see you tomorrow." She laughed at his joke, though he hadn't really been kidding. He was going to wake every single person connected with the IADG until he found someone to take him New Brunswick.

"Goodbye." He waited until he heard the line disconnect, then slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"That was her?" Dalton's voice came from almost right behind him, and when Mitch turned the man was there with a two small glasses. The fizz in one told Mitch that Dalton was celebrating with soda, but Mitch's glass was half-full of what appeared to be a very fine scotch.

"That was her," Mitch confirmed. "She's alive."

"That's amazing news, man. I'm happy for you." He raised his glass in a toast, and Mitch clinked his glass against it before sipping the dark liquid. It was very smooth.

"You've been holding out on me."

"Annette gave me that bottle for my birthday a few weeks before she died. Even at my lowest, I couldn't bring myself to open it." He finished his own soda as Mitch took another appreciative drink.

"Thank you," Mitch said. "And not just for this. For...everything, I guess."

"You go get that girl of yours and bring her home. When you get back, you two can split the rest of that bottle." Mitch transferred his glass to his left hand to grasp Dalton's hand, trying to convey the depth his gratitude through the simple contact.

"Thanks again."

As he finished his drink and stepped out into the frigid night air, he pulled out his cell once more. He found Chloe's number and pressed the call button, his entire body thrumming with energy. She picked up after four rings.

"Mitch?" Her voice was slurred with sleep, and Mitch realized how late it was.

"Yeah, sorry. Listen, I have amazing news." The scotch was warm in his belly as his long strides ate up the distance between Dalton's and his apartment.

"At two in the morning?" Chloe had never been a morning person - he remembered that from their travels together - but she sounded even more irritable than usual.

Mitch's next words were sure to change that. "Jamie's alive."

She didn't answer right away, and when she did speak her tone had shifted from agitation to sympathy. "Mitch…"

"No, I know. It's impossible. Except I just got off the phone with her. She survived the crash, Chloe. She's alive." He glanced around as he rounded the last corner for home. It would be tragic to find out Jamie was alive only to be killed on his way to get her.

"Have you been drinking?"

"A little," he admitted. "I'm not drunk. And I didn't dream it either," he cut off her next protest before she could utter it. "You can trace my last phone call if you want. It was her."

"That's…"

There really weren't any words to describe it, so he didn't blame her for not finishing her sentence. "Listen, we need transportation to New Brunswick. She said she was about fifteen miles south of Caraquet just on the other side of some river." Mitch stepped into the foyer of his building and made a beeline for his apartment. "There's more," he told her as he slid his key into the door. "She still has the leopard."

"What?" Chloe was awake now. "How?"

"I don't know," Mitch laughed. "And honestly I didn't ask. It doesn't matter. She's alive, and she has the only means for the cure left in the world."

"Okay." Something rustled on her end and Mitch wondered if she was getting out of bed now. "I'll go to headquarters and see about getting us transportation. I imagine knowing we still have a chance at the cure will be enough to motivate them to send someone immediately. Can you text me the information she gave you about her position?"

"Yeah," Mitch locked the door behind him and moved to the couch. His legs gave out just as he reached it. "I still can't believe it."

"It's incredible," she agreed. "Have you told the others?"

"No," Mitch leaned back and covered his eyes with his free hand. "Honestly, I'm still trying to process it all."

"Okay, I'll call Jackson and have him call Abe. Let's all meet outside IADG headquarters tomorrow morning at eight. I should be able to get us transport by then." She was up now, he could hear her messing around in the kitchen.

"Alright. Tomorrow, then."

"Get some sleep, Mitch." She hung up, leaving him in the silence of his apartment. And, for the first time in six months, it didn't bother him. He kicked off his shoes and slid sideways to lay on the couch knowing that, for tonight at least, his demons would be quiet.

 _New Brunswick, Canada_

Her strength grew each day, and so did her anxiety. She tried to talk to Anik, to make him understand she needed a phone, but he just didn't understand. Six days after she woke up, she found an old journal with a pen in the basement. Its pages were filled with writing she couldn't decipher, but she managed a crude drawing of a phone on the first blank page.

When he saw the drawing, Anik tapped the page thoughtfully. He said a word that Jamie didn't quite catch and dashed out the door. Jamie watched him go but didn't follow, hopeful that he'd gotten her message. Hope turned to surprise when she heard his truck start. Through the window she watched him drive away and tried to figure out how he'd completely misunderstood her intention. She looked down at her drawing, at the curved shape of an old receiver. She thought it was a reasonable facsimile. She'd even added a curly cord on one end. There was no way he could have mistaken it for anything other than a phone.

"Might as well do something productive," she muttered, standing from the kitchen table to hobble up the stairs. Anik had given her run of the upper level of the house, and in that time she'd taken a shower every day. Jamie hated the cold, and Anik had a hot water heater that was enough to let her take a hot shower for half an hour each day. When she wasn't under the warm spray, she was wrapped in a blanket to ward off the chill. Even in the middle of the day, it didn't rise above freezing. Jamie needed to get out of here fast.

Jamie shut off the water before the temperature dropped. Her skin was warmed, but she knew from experience it wouldn't last. The moment she stepped out of the tub she felt the cold seeping in, and she dried and dressed quickly. She towel-dried her hair as much as she could and started to finger-comb it when she heard Anik's truck returning.

Excitement sent her running through the door and down the stairs, still mindful of her healing injuries. She remembered the blanket at the last minute, shrugging it around her shoulders as she pushed through the back door.

Anik was carrying a yellow case, and Jamie reached for it gratefully. "A phone," she took it from him and hugged it to her chest. "Thank you. Thank you so much." Here it was, her lifeline. A line to Mitch. "Thank you, thank you."

She turned back to the house, her mind already repeating the ten digits that would connect her to her home. Because that's what he was...her home. She hadn't had one in such a long time that she'd forgotten what it felt like. No matter where she'd gone after Folsom, she could never find that indescribable something, that soulful joy that filled her up whenever she thought about her hometown. Now, though, with the means to call her family, her friends, people she'd known her entire life...all she could think about was his smile. There was a tiny voice in the back of her mind warning her that he could be dead. She could dial his number and never get an answer. Worse yet, she could dial his number and reach a complete stranger.

 _No_. Just as she did a week ago, she shrugged off those thoughts and marched toward the house with her prize. Only the sight of an old wooden crate deterred her. She'd seen that crate before, sitting next to her on the plane.

"Wait," she shifted the phone case to one hand and turned to Anik. The implication of the box's presence sent her mind into overdrive, and she stammered her way through her next words. "There was a...there was a cub in there. In the box, a cub," she began to gesture frantically as Anik muttered something in his own language. "A leopard cub. A small," she pleaded with him, trying to convey through charades and desperate pointing what she meant. "Do you know where he is? Is he okay?"

" _Posivak?_ " Anik asked.

"Posivak?" Jamie repeated.

" _Posivak_." Anik nodded and began walking away. Jamie followed him around the house to an area she'd never seen. Her window faced the back of the yard, and she'd never had a reason to investigate the front of the property before. Now she wished she had.

Pacing back and forth within the confines of a small fenced area was a leopard. No, it was _the_ leopard. He wasn't so little anymore, now resembling the beasts that had attacked their campsite rather than the adorable, mewling kitten that had lived in her pack.

" _Posivak_ ," Anik declared proudly, and Jamie laughed with relief.

"Posivak."

Anik patted her shoulder warmly and left her alone, off to tend to whatever he did during the days. Jamie clutched her prize against her chest, staring in wonder for a moment more at the pair of miracles that had been given to her.

Finally the urge to reconnect with Mitch grew too strong, and she limped as quickly as she could to the stairs at the side of the house. She pulled the satellite phone from the case and began dialing, aware that the trembling in her fingers had nothing to do with the cold.

It rang once, twice, three times. Jamie's heart dropped into her stomach. _No, he can't be -_

"Mitch Morgan, totally awesome scientist."

Jamie clutched the phone to her chest for almost five full minutes after saying goodbye. _He's coming_ , she told herself, repeating it over and over in her mind. Hearing his voice, _knowing_ he had survived - and the others, too! - did more for her spirit than she thought possible. Despite her constant companion, Jamie had felt a shroud of loneliness over her that stifled most of her emotions and muted the beauty of the countryside around her. Anik had offered to take her out for a drive, but the threat of bears, wolves, and who knew what else out there kept her firmly inside the safety of the fence line.

But talking to Mitch, listening to him fight every emotion she, too, was warring with, hearing his steadfast promise that he was coming to get her...Jamie felt hope again for the first time since she'd woken up in a stranger's bed.

Anik looked up when she set the phone case down on the table. She didn't understand the words, but his inquiring smile was enough to make her grin.

"My friends are on their way," she told him. He nodded like he understood. She wanted to tell him to come with her, to get away from the animals and find shelter in a safe zone. But even if he understood, she knew he would never leave. This was his home, and he'd already built a fence to protect it. He wouldn't leave it.

She left him sitting in the kitchen and made her way back outside. During the day the cold wasn't quite as biting, and the sun made it seem warmer than it was. She sat down an arm's length from the enclosure where the leopard was still pacing.

"Not long now," she told him. "We'll get you back to the states and make the cure, set things right." Things were bad, Mitch had told her. She couldn't imagine what it was like now. Things had escalated so quickly in the three short months since the lions had escaped in Los Angeles; six months later things were probably approaching apocalyptic levels.

She thought about her conversation with Mitch and his promise to do everything possible to get to her quickly. Just the memory of his laugh felt good, like turning down the gravel drive in Folsom or hearing her aunt's voice call her for dinner. The sense of _home_ settled in her bones and she simply let it wash over her.

 _He's coming_ , she reminded herself. _I'm going home._


	14. Day of the Beast - Carry it On

Here it is, folks! The beginning of Season 2! I'm super excited, because there's a lot of unexplored potential in this season. Expect loads more J/M interaction than we got. As always, thank you for reading and any comments are welcome!

* * *

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 14: Day of the Beast - Carry it On

 _The team runs into trouble in their mission to retrieve Jamie and the leopard from Canada. Mitch strikes a deal as new threats emerge. A Jamie/Mitch rewrite_

* * *

Mitch's entire body thrummed with energy as he buckled himself into the back of Abe's Hummer. Jackson climbed in next to him as Chloe slid into the front seat. It felt good, all of them back together again.

 _Not all of us_ , Mitch corrected. Jamie was alive, and they were going to get her.

Abe had already maneuvered his way out onto the main road. Mitch pulled his scarf off of his neck and settled in. "What's the plan?"

Chloe glanced over her shoulder. "We drive to Delaware," she said. "There is a boat that will take us to Jamie."

"A boat?"

"Yeah," Jackson added. "It'll take eighteen hours or so but, you know...air travel."

Mitch forced the sound of a woman's scream from his mind. "Yeah, I'm okay not getting a plane for a while." Mitch looked over in time to see him dabbing tenderly at a wound on his arm. "Hey," he shifted slightly in his seat, "what is that? You alright?"

"Oh yeah," Jackson . "Yeah, yeah, it's nothing. It's a dog bite; it's fine."

Mitch winced at the red, swollen skin around the puncture marks. "That needs to be cleaned out. Doesn't look too good."

"Yeah," Jackson swabbed at it again. Mitch let him be, but made a note to check on him that evening for signs of infection.

"Hang on," Abe murmured, pulling his attention from Jackson's doctoring attempts.

"What the hell?"

Mitch leaned forward in his seat slightly as they rolled to a stop. "This doesn't look so good, either." Ahead of them, the road was blocked by a wall of fur, feathers, and scales. Dozens of animals stood together, snarling and growling at the vehicle. He had heard the National Zoo had lost containment, but he hadn't realized _all_ of the animals had escaped.

"Any ideas?" Abe kept his eyes glued to the menagerie standing in their way. "I'm open to suggestions."

Mitch had one. "Yeah, man, get us out of here."

"Hold on." Abe shifted into reverse with an almost dismissive glance behind them. He didn't need to bother; there was no one there. The tires complained about their treatment as he spun the steering wheel and pointed them in a direction that wasn't barred by the entire population of the National Zoo.

Almost as one, the animals charged. Abe had already mostly spun them around, and as he shifted into drive Mitch could feel the rumble of the ground as the collective tons of creatures barrelled towards them.

"Turn here!" Jackson pointed over Abe's shoulder.

"We need to get to Jamie," Abe insisted, and Mitch didn't argue.

"And the cure," Chloe added.

They were all looking to their left, waiting for the horde to come cresting the hill, so none of them saw the rhino that slammed into the passenger side and sent the Hummer spinning. Mitch felt the door next to him cave in under the force of its charge, and the impact jarred his leg from knee to hip.

They all scrambled out, Abe and Jackson just a bit faster than the other two. Chloe grabbed her head as Mitch stumbled out next to her, his leg throbbing from the collision.

"We've got to keep moving," Jackson huffed. Mitch followed his gaze and groaned at the sight of gas leaking from the ruptured tank beneath the vehicle. "If the harbor's anything like this, the captain won't wait long."

The thought of having to wait even longer to get to Jamie didn't sit well with Mitch. Hell, not being able to see her, hold her, touch her...every second since finding out she was alive had been a painfully pleasurable combination of anticipation and agony.

An elephant trumpeted in the distance, and they all looked up to see the mob of animals bearing down on them. "Neither will they," Chloe groaned.

Mitch was watching their imminent demise approach, so he didn't see Jackson's calculated gaze dancing around in search of a solution. Nor did he see the triumphant gleam that meant he'd found one.

"Abe," Jackson said as he tossed a small metal beam at his friend, "count to five, then light me." He began to climb back into the Hummer.

Chloe stepped around the back of the car towards him. "What are you doing?"

Jackson paused with a foot on the running board. "I'm making a wall. Meet me at Amelia's office. She'll get us another car."

"Are you crazy?"

"Probably." Jackson's devil-may-care smile was likely meant as a reassurance; Mitch just felt queasy. Before anyone could protest, Jackson hoisted himself up into the driver's seat and slammed the door. It was still running, and Mitch could only watch from his half-bent position as the Hummer lurched forward and began accelerating toward the charging mob.

"Oh boy," Abe hoisted the bar up over his shoulder like a baseball player and took a mighty swing at the trail of gas Jackson was leaving behind him. It sparked then caught, and they watched as the flames sped across the fuel-soaked pavement. Jackson took a sharp left, effectively trapping the horde behind a wall of fire.

"Let's go." Mitch limped toward Chloe, but she was focused on the corner where Jackson had disappeared.

"No!' Chloe began moving _toward_ the fire. "We can't just leave him!"

Mitch reached out and gripped her arm to keep her from taking another step. Abe dropped the bar and moved to cut her off. "He said he'll meet us at Amelia's office, and he will."

"No!" Chloe's face was desperate, and Mitch sympathized.

"He's an African safari guide," he reasoned. "I like his chances way better than ours." He tugged her forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as Abe led the way. He could feel her hesitation coiled in her muscles as he half-pushed, half-leaned on her. Her head turned sharply as one of the animals (the gorilla, he thought) let out a bellow of rage.

"He's gonna be okay," he told her. "We need to get back to the IADG."

"This way," Abe turned down an alley, leaving the other two no choice but to follow. Chloe seemed to realize Mitch was limping and began to actively support some of his weight to make it easier for him to run.

"How far?" Chloe looked around frantically, but only Abe seemed to know where they were. Mitch suspected spending months as a beefed up chauffeur had that going for it, at least.

"Just a few blocks," Abe answered. "Come on!"

They finally hit a corner that was familiar and their strides increased. The adrenaline had all but eliminated Mitch's pain and Chloe was a few steps ahead as they entered the courtyard.

The ominous hum of a swarm surrounded them instantly, and Mitch felt Chloe slip away from him in panic. Her scream filled his ears and he reached for her.

"Run, Chloe!" he tried to keep sight of her, but the insects forced him to duck his head and veer toward the building. He heard Abe's heavy footfalls and followed them into an alcove that provided a little shelter. A few more steps took him inside the building, and the hornets seemed to vanish.

"Where's Chloe?" Mitch looked around frantically for any sign of the blonde. "Chloe!"

"This way," Abe pointed him through a door where a throng of military uniforms and business suits were buzzing in twisted imitation of the hornets outside.

"Hey!" Mitch barreled through checkpoint and launched himself at the nearest person who looked like he knew what he was doing. His first instinct was to grab him, shake him and demand to send one of these military squads after Chloe. Then he remembered he wasn't exactly well-liked around here and changed tack. "Hey, uh, we're...we're here to see Amelia Sage."

Abe, however, seemed to have lost any sense of reason. He reached out and grabbed the man's arm firmly. "And we're looking for Chloe Tousignant and Jackson Oz. Have they checked in yet?"

"Couldn't tell you, pal" the man replied. "We're a little busy." He zoomed off without another word, leaving Mitch and Abe desperately searching for their friends.

"I don't see them anywhere," Abe sounded almost hopeless, but Mitch wasn't giving up. He followed Abe past a wall of television screens as they blasted out news stories from almost every major city across the globe. It was as if the animals had finally realized, all at the same time, that they had the human race on the ropes.

The "Day of the Beast", they were calling it. It was dramatic, but very appropriate - Jamie would love it. Mitch prowled around hunting for anyone that could help until a flash of blonde hair caught his eye and he whirled around.

"Chloe!"

"Hey!" She was cradling something in her arms, and as they got closed Mitch saw the small features of an infant peeking from beneath the folds of the blanket. "Where's Jackson?"

"We hoped he was here," Abe glanced up as though he expected his friend to magically appear.

Mitch, however, was quickly doing a mental check of Chloe, making sure she was unharmed. There didn't seem to be any welts or stings on her face; she had gotten lucky. His attention was returned immediately to the bundle in her arms. "Why do you have a baby?"

"It happened after the hornets," she was unconsciously bouncing the baby in an attempt to calm it, though from what Mitch could see it was relatively content in Chloe's arms. "The mother, she...she didn't survive."

"That's terrible," Abe reached out to caress the infant's head in a loving gesture.

"Yeah," Mitch added, "this day's chock full of terrible." Not the least of which was, now they had to find another way to get to Jamie. "Hopefully Amelia can salvage it, find us a way out of town."

"She hasn't checked in yet," Chloe shook her head.

"Jackson!" Abe's shout startled them, and both Mitch and Chloe turned to see a very bloody - but very alive - Jackson hobbling toward them.

Chloe met him halfway. "What happened to you? You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he reassured her, though it lost a little of its power as more blood tricked down the side of his face. "I'm fine."

As he neared, Mitch saw the tears in his shirt and the multiple scrapes and cuts he now sported. He thought about making a joke about heroes and action movies, but Abe cut him off before he could get it out.

"Rafiki, what happened out there?"

"Brakes failed," Jackson seemed to still be trying to catch his breath. "I had to jump, but the fire did the trick."

There was something off, something flat about Jackson's retelling, but Mitch guessed it was probably just the crash that occurred after a high dose of adrenaline. "Scared all the animals away?"

"Yeah, I didn't see any after the explosion." There was another perfect opportunity for an action hero joke, but Mitch was too intent on other things to jump on it. "Got lucky, I guess."

"You need to see a doctor," Chloe insisted. "The medics are over here."

"I'm fine," Jackson insisted again, but Mitch agreed.

"Go get checked out. Abe and I will try to track someone down who can help us."

Chloe led him over to the medic station as Abe made a path through the crowd to the back where a makeshift command center had been established to coordinate all of the incoming civilians.

"We're looking for Amelia Sage," Abe said when one of them finally looked up.

"Please sign in at the desk. Someone will be with you as soon as possible." It was a line, a blanket statement meant to acknowledge and dismiss, and it was Mitch's last straw.

"Look," he pushed past Abe and leaned into the young soldier's face. "We don't have time to play your 'hurry up and wait' bull. We were sent - by Amelia Sage - to get the one thing that will save the world. Since our first means of transport is no longer an option, we need to find another one. And now, the only thing keeping us from doing that is you. So either find us Amelia Sage, or find us someone who can!"

The boy blinked in the face of the unexpected tirade, but his face remained impassive. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't -"

"Doctor Morgan!" An unfamiliar voice called from the other side of the room, pulling Mitch's attention from the vicious burst of emotion that was beginning to coil in his chest. An older man with a red beard and bald head jogged up to them. It took a moment, but Mitch finally recognized him as one of the IADG's scientists. Jefferson? Jergens? "Doctor Morgan, it's good to see you. When the harbormaster called and said you didn't show, we got worried."

"We're fine," Mitch grabbed the man's elbow and steered him away from the line of military personnel. "We need to get to New Brunswick." He was keyed up now, and the other man winced at the force of Mitch's grip.

"When Amelia didn't report in, I contacted the next in line. She's on her way now."

Mitch deflated as the frustration that had swelled within him abated a little. "Thanks, uh," he glanced down briefly at the doctor's badge in hopes of catching a glimpse of a name, but it was covered by the lapel of his white coat. "Thanks."

"I'll stay here," Abe offered, "you go get the others."

It took half an hour to get everything coordinated. Mitch had given them specifications on the crate and a request for clamps to keep it from rocking too much on the chopper. Eleanor had assured them that it would handled. They had been directed to a back hall that led to the bowels of the building. Mitch had only been here a handful of times, but he remembered the way to the service elevator that would take them to the helipad on the roof.

Jackson had charged his phone and was now checking the news. "President just declared a state of emergency," he said. "He's starting mandatory evacuations all across New England."

Mitch thought of Clementine and Audra. Their safe zone in Maine was about to get a lot more crowded. They rounded a corner and came face to face with a Navy SEAL team. "Chopper's on its way," the lead man reported. His nametag was partially obscured by the tac-vest, but the first four letters suggested it was probably Johnson.

"Did you install those titanium clamps I asked for to secure the crate?" Mitch asked.

"Yes, sir." He shifted slightly, taking in the three men before him. "So you're the ones who figured out why the animals went crazy."

"That would be us," Jackson nodded.

"Didn't think you guys really existed," he told them. "Thought you were some kind of urban myth." It sounded ludicrous, but Mitch could understand why. If he thought about it too much, it sounded crazy to his ears, too. "So what happens when we get this leopard?" Johnson asked.

"We use its DNA to make a cure, fix the animals." Mitch wanted to skip the chatter and get on the helicopter.

"Just like that? Wow. It's an honor to serve alongside you."

Mitch reeled from the unexpected compliment. He was used to being called surly, accused of being snide or overly-sarcastic. He could only recall once in recent memory when someone had made a similar comment on his character.

" _As you can imagine, I'm an acquired taste,"_ he'd told her.

" _In the beginning,"_ she'd agreed. _"But in the end, you come through."_

Seeing her soft smile in his mind's eye only strengthened his need to see her again. _I'm coming, Jamie._

"We'll have you in the air in two minutes," Johnson and his squad pushed past them and disappeared around a corner. Jackson and Abe turned toward Mitch, and he could see his own anticipation mirrored in their eyes.

"After everything we've been through, we're finally going to do this," Jackson smiled.

Abe grinned with him. "We're going to get a cure."

Tears stung the back of Mitch's eyes as he added the most important piece. "And Jamie." Abe's hand was warm on his shoulder, a comforting gesture that quelled the last of his lingering anger. It was time to make their family whole again.

Mitch thought if he never rode in another helicopter in his life, he would consider himself lucky. This one was nothing like the smooth, clipped pace they had set from the hospital in Harare. This SEAL team had a mission, and from the moment they lifted from the helipad they were zipping through the air at a dizzying speed. They had to stop and refuel once, but the military precision displayed by the ground team had them ready to go in under five minutes.

 _Hot fuel_ , one of the men remarked with a smug grin that told Mitch it wasn't an easy feat. Mitch barely had time to reorient to being on the ground before they were airborne once more.

"We're fifteen minutes out from the coordinates you gave us," Johnson's voice crackled over the headset that had been issued to Mitch at the start of their flight. Jackson and Abe had one as well, and as the announcement came over they all looked out at the vast wilderness below them. It was a wonder anyone lived out here at all, cut off from any form of civilization. For someone like Jamie, a technophile with a healthy appreciation for the little luxuries of life, being isolated out here was probably akin to torture of the worst kind. Mitch tuned out the military chatter as he forced himself to take steady, regular breaths. The rush of the flight only compounded upon the anxious energy churning in his stomach, and it was enough to make him nauseous as the chopper dipped forward.

"On our approach," Johnson reported. "Looks lively down there."

He'd missed the small farmstead in the distance as he'd gazed out over the Canadian wilderness. Now, at the pilot's words, Mitch sat a little straighter and strained for any sign of Jamie as they neared.

"Tranq's ready," the soldier at Jackson's left answered. "No live rounds." Mitch was grateful for that at least; no one could accidentally shoot Jamie or the leopard thinking they were vicious wildlife.

"We're coming in!" Johnson warned. "Brace yourselves."

The landing was quicker than the takeoff, but the pilot executed it perfectly. Only the fact that they were quicker to their feet meant the soldiers were on the ground before Mitch. The moment his feet hit the grass he was sprinting toward the house.

"Jamie!"

Jackson was right behind him, his own shout echoing her name as they searched for their friend. Mitch hit the stairs first, leaping up to the porch in one bound. The door was open, cracked and splintered under the weight of something large.

Bile rose in his throat at the sight of blood, and for a split second he thought he was too late. But the body lying gutted on the floor wasn't Jamie, and a quick inspection revealed an empty house.

"We found a body, male," one of the men shouted as they exited the house. "No sign of the leopard." Mitch bit back a scathing remark, wondering who the hell cared about a leopard when Jamie was missing.

"The leopard!" Abe's voice came from the side of the house, and the unit converged on him in seconds.

"What?" Mitch glanced at the small window that led to a basement, and the yellow rope that led from it. "You got him?"

The corporal got there before he did. "We have eyes on the target!"

"Any sign of the girl?" Johnson shouted back.

"Negative!" The two men with the crate bustled over, and Mitch stepped back as they maneuvered into position.

"Jamie did this," he told Abe.

"Yes, Mitch."

"She was here," he walked the length of the rope until it disappeared up an embankment. "She was right here!" He tried to reach out and feel her, to get an idea of where she might have gone, but nothing came to him. For the first time in his life, he cursed his cold, scientific mind. "Jamie!"

Jackson was on the other side of the house, but Mitch could hear him calling for her, too. She had to be here.

Growls heralded the arrival of a small pack of wolves, and Mitch felt heart rate double as their shadows solidified into a mass of teeth and fur.

"Everyone fall in!" Johnson ordered as the leopard was loaded into the chopper.

Mitch ignored him. "Jamie!" She was here, he knew she was. She couldn't have gone far, not knowing he was coming for her. She had probably heard the chopper and the commotion and was on her way back right now.

A weight settled on his shoulders as he took another step toward the tree line. It was Abe. "We have to go!"

Mitch balked. "I am _not_ leaving her here! She left that rope. That means she's still alive, okay?" Abe looked determined, but there wasn't a force devised by the heavens that would convince Mitch that getting in that helicopter without Jamie was a good idea.

"She left the rope so we could find the leopard," Abe reasoned. "And we did."

"We can't leave her here!" Mitch turned and started back toward the trees. He'd search the entire Canadian wilderness himself if he had to. He would not abandon her again.

"We can come back!" Abe was saying, but Mitch refused to listen. A strong hand closed around his arm, but Mitch wrenched it away.

"No, no, no!" he tore himself away. "I'm not...I'm not leaving!" Desperation and worry mingled into a dark mass in his chest, and he did the only thing he could think of to do. He sat down. "I'm not leaving."

"What the hell are you doing?" Jackson was standing next to the chopper as the team loaded in, his entire posture screaming confused panic as he looked back on the scene.

"I'm not leaving without you." Abe reached down and hauled Mitch to his feet.

"Get your hands off me!" Mitch fought with every ounce of strength he possessed as Abe tried to lift him up and carry him to the chopper. A soldier came to help, but despair fueled Mitch's strength and he broke free. He took off at a dead run toward the forest, heedless of the snarling creatures closing in on their position. "Jamie!"

The wind was taken from him as two soldiers tackled him from behind. He spit out a mouthful of dirt and struggled as they each grabbed an arm and pulled him to his feet. "Let go of me!" He choked out Jamie's name again at the back of a sob. "She's still out there. She's out there! We can still find her. _Please_!" They wrapped their arms around him and began to haul him toward the chopper despite his begging. "Please, we can't just leave her!" His vision blurred with tears as he fought with everything he had, but he couldn't break their hold.

"We did it to save your life. We can come back for Jamie!" Abe said as they bodily loaded Mitch onto the chopper between him and Jackson.

Rage and helplessness erupted from within him, and he slammed his hand down on the top of the crate.

"Hey!" Jackson pushed him back in his seat. "Keep your head!"

Mitch howled in pain, though the sting in his palm paled in comparison to the agony that seeped into every fibre of his being. They were sentencing her to death. Abe's words were nothing more than platitudes; they all knew the odds of her survival out here, and they were leaving her anyway.

He turned to Abe as the motor began whirring faster, ready to lift him up and away. "I hate you for this," he hissed, meaning every word. He would never forgive Abe, not as long as he drew breath. He was losing her all over again, and the grief of it slammed into him with a force that was compounded by his failure. He had promised her he was coming, that he would find her and hold her to him and never let her go again. She'd probably die knowing he hadn't kept that promise.

As the chopper rose from the ground, shadows emerged from the tree line. Wolves - dozens of them - all of them howling and hungry and yearning for human blood. For a crazy, grief-stricken moment, Mitch contemplated lunging for the still-open door. The fall would most certainly cripple him, leaving him for the ravenous creatures that were now barking and snapping at the air. But just as quickly as the thought had come it was gone, leaving a gaping, cavernous yawn where his heart should have been. It took him a moment to process the sensation, the sudden realization washing over him like a cold rain. Logically, he understood that the organ was still beating steadily under his ribs, carrying out its intended function in measured time. But that's all it was - a muscle.

His real heart had just been abandoned to the cold, unforgiving wilderness.

Mitch barely registered anything on the flight back to D.C. Abe tried talking to him once, but Mitch refused to even look at him for fear he'd do something stupid. He'd never been a particularly violent man, but as the distance between him and Jamie grew further and further apart, Mitch felt the urge to throttle the man he'd once called friend.

Chloe was waiting for them when they landed. She greeted them with a curt nod, falling in behind Mitch and Abe as they followed the leopard to the lab.

"Where's Jamie?"

A thousand answers, each more vicious than the last, came to his mind. Finally, he settled on a cold glance and snide growl. "Ask _him_ ," he nodded at Abe and stalked away without a backwards glance.

The halls were somewhat familiar from the few and far between visits he'd made to the IADG headquarters, but it still took him a few tries to find the small office that had been converted into a break room. The coffee in the pot was hours old, but Mitch didn't care. He sighed wearily and felt the beginnings of tears in his eyes. He forced himself to study the cracks in the linoleum to keep them from falling. The soft knock came a few minutes later than he was expecting, and when Chloe slipped in he didn't even look up.

"Jackson told me what happened," she spoke softly, as if she was afraid he would shatter if she didn't. He was, too. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," he choked, finally raising his eyes to hers and seeing his sorrow mirrored in their depths.

Chloe pushed away from the door and came to stand in front of him. "I know how you must be feeling, but -"

"Oh you _know_?" Mitch knew it wasn't fair for Chloe to take the brunt of his anger, but now that it had been given an outlet it rushed forward like a great beast. "We left her out there, _alone_. It's January, Chloe. In God-Knows-Where, Canada. If the cold doesn't kill her, the animals will. And we didn't even _look_!" He turned and hurled the half-full mug in his hand. The porcelain shattered noisily as cold coffee painted the wall. Chloe's flinch cooled his anger a little, but he was still seething as he stared at her. "Please tell me how you _know_ what it feels like to condemn someone you love to death."

There was a beat of silence as his words hung between them. There was a flash of something in her eyes, and for an instant it looked like she might cry. Then her face hardened and she took a step back.

"I never told you, or anyone else, what happened when they captured me. After Brannigan was killed, I was kept in an old warehouse by Gaspard," her voice was pitched low and even but he could hear the quiver she was trying to hide. "They tied me to a chair and made me watch as they tortured my sister. They cut off her hand when I wouldn't tell them what they wanted to know, and it was made clear that if I didn't cooperate they would kill her. Slowly." She stared pointedly, refusing to break eye contact with him as she spoke her secret. "All I had to do to save her life was tell them where the team was, where you were going. But I couldn't. Not if it meant endangering the mission. Because, in the end, that's what matters. Saving the world. The _world_ , Mitch."

Hearing the pain and torment she'd gone through took the last of the wind from his sails. He sank back against the counter and shut his eyes. He heard the shuffle of her feet half a second before he felt her fit against him in a tight hug.

"I'll talk to Eleanor, ask her to send another team as soon as one is available," Chloe murmured. "We won't give up on her, Mitch."

Tears fell on her shoulder as he sagged against her. "Thank you."

She held onto him for a moment more, then pushed back. "We need you, Mitch. They're prepping the leopard now, but it's your procedure. We need you to oversee it."

"Alright," Mitch straightened up and cleared his throat. "Let's go."

"It's not working," Jorgensen looked up from the lab to the observation room where Mitch stood with the team and a few of Eleanor's people. IADG scientists had recreated Mitch's work and produced a small vial of the cure from the leopard's DNA. They'd immediately administered it into their test subject - a German Shepherd who was still snarling and growling ten minutes later.

"It works," Mitch pushed away from the glass with a disgusted sneer. "You're doing it wrong."

The short walk down the stairs was just enough to stoke the fire in him again. The moment he pushed through the door he was pointing at the lead doctor. "You! You did something wrong."

"Doctor Morgan, we followed your protocol to the last detail," Jorgensen contended.

Several feet away, their test subject snarled viciously. "Dog seems to disagree," Mitch sniped. "Did you verify the viability of these stem cells?"

"Measured eighty-nine percent with 7-AAD dye exclusion," Jorgensen replied curtly.

"Cross-check for contamination?" They'd done something wrong, Mitch knew it. The cure worked.

"Zero ppm detected."

"Resuspend at the right temperature?"

"Obviously."

"Well obviously not," Mitch cut him off before he could continue. "Something's wrong." He reached for the equipment with every intention of correcting Jorgensen's mistakes, but the scientist protested.

"You don't have the clearance -"

"Clearance?" Mitch rounded on him furiously. "We didn't fly around the world for that leopard so that you textbook hacks could screw it up."

Jorgensen started forward, but Jackson intervened. "Hey, what's he gonna do, Doc? Make it not work more? It's okay."

Mitch ignored everything and everyone as he worked, following the procedure from memory. Once, as the solution whirred inside the electroporator, Mitch's mind tried to call up the memory of a brilliant smile and shining eyes, but he forced it away.

When it was done, he filled a syringe and turned toward the dog. "Easy, easy," he soothed the raging animal as he sprayed the mixture into its mouth. "Easy. Good boy." He turned to the monitor, fully expecting the dog's heart rate to drop back to a normal rhythm. When nothing happened, Mitch became agitated. "Just drop," he breathed, willing the machine to listen. "Come on, just drop. Drop!"

But it didn't.

"This baseline heart rate is way higher than anything we've seen before," Jackson said. "It's like...it's like the dog's still mutating."

Which meant that they'd flown all the way to New Brunswick and come back without Jamie for nothing. The cure no longer worked.

"We're too late," Mitch growled. He'd failed. Again. "Total waste!" He surged forward and upended the nearest table, sending equipment and machinery crashing to the floor. Abe reached for him as he stormed past, but he pushed him away. "Get your hands off me, Kenyatta," he spat. "Don't touch me, don't even think about me, alright?" He turned to storm out of the lab, eager to be anywhere but here.

"We can find another way," Abe implored.

Mitch whirled at his words. "We will not find another way!" he roared. "We will not find another way."

"Mitch, wait," Chloe called after him, but he had already slammed through the lab door. It ricocheted off the wall with a crash. "Wait!" Her footfalls were quick and light behind his, and she caught him at the first bend. "We still need you."

"You need me," he snarled derisively. "For what? The cure failed."

"Yes, it did," Chloe replied. "So we need to figure out the next step. And we can't do that without you."

For a moment he said nothing, just continued to stare her down. But she didn't blink, didn't falter, and her words came back to him in a flash.

 _That's what matters. Saving the world._

"Alright," he gestured vaguely down the corridor. "Let's go talk to Eleanor."

They ended up with a plane - a state of the art, completely outfitted plane (minus a basketball hoop, unfortunately) and a mission: fly to Argentina and find Dr. Vickers. Mitch spent the flight getting acquainted with his new lab and rearranging everything. Whoever had initially set it up had done so very poorly.

"Getting settled in?" Abe's deep voice resonated in the open space.

Mitch looked up to the landing and adjusted his glasses. "Uh, yeah," he cleared his throat. "Yeah, this place has pretty much everything to research this new mutation." Abe shifted nervously at the top of the stairs, and Mitch realized he was waiting for an invitation. Or an apology. Mitch almost gave him one, then the spiteful voice in the back of his head reminded him that it was Abe who had made the decision to leave Jamie behind. Mitch stayed silent.

"Trotter says we should land in Argentina in a few hours," Abe said finally. "We should get some sleep."

"Right," Mitch turned back to his work, effectively dismissing Abe. He heard the other man's sigh of frustration, then his footsteps as he retreated to the sleeping quarters.

Mitch didn't look up again until his phone vibrated in his pocket. He was reorganizing the distillation glassware, and he pulled it out and answered without looking at the screen.

"Mitch Morgan."

"Mitch?" the woman answered. "Mitch, are you there?"

His blood ran cold. Blinded by his own rage and despair, he'd completely forgotten about updating Jamie's family. "Yes, Fran, I'm here." Jamie's aunt could only be calling for one reason.

"Is Jamie there? Can I speak to her? Is she alright?" Each question was a dagger in his heart, and he sat down bonelessly on the stool behind him.

"Fran, I -" He pinched the bridge of his nose and took several deep breaths. "There were…" He faltered. "Things didn't go as planned."

"Mitch," Fran's excitement had transformed instantly into concern. "Mitch tell me what's happened."

Mitch swallowed thickly and forced his voice to remain steady through the telling. "We went to Canada, where she said she'd been staying. But when we got there…" His throat closed painfully over the words, but she deserved to hear the truth. "She was gone. But she's alive," he rushed on. "Fran, you hear me? She's alive. And we're not giving up on her. The IADG is sending team after team until they find her."

Fran's soft sob on the other end broke his heart, but he made himself listen. He deserved that much, at least. She collected herself quickly. "How are you holding up, dear?"

Mitch smiled at that. "I'm…" His smile faded just as quickly.

"I understand," Fran soothed. "Just take care of yourself. And please keep me updated."

"I will." He let her hang up first, waiting a few more seconds before slipping the phone back in his pocket. The reorganizing could wait; he needed to rest.

"This is Trotter," a voice crackled over the intercom, pulling Mitch from his nap. "We'll be landing in Argentina in just a few minutes." Mitch changed his shirt and met the others in the main area. Eleanor's face filled a screen on the wall, and she was nodding at something Chloe had just said.

"I've forwarded coordinates to your phone," she was saying. "The Ranger team assigned to Doctor Vickers radioed in last night. From your current position, it's only about a three mile trek."

"Great," Mitch groaned. "Another jaunt through the woods."

"Don't forget the bug spray," Eleanor disconnected with a wave.

"We should get going," Jackson was already shouldering a go bag. "We need to find Doctor Vickers, and fast."

Chloe stood and grabbed her own bag. "Then let's go."

Mitch watched them all move toward the rear of the plane, then grudgingly followed after. "Once more unto the breach."

* * *

The title for this chapter comes from a Daughtry song, "Torches." The lyrics speak well to what Mitch and Jamie go through these first few episodes:

"Love is like a torch that's burning bright  
Carry it on, carry it on and you'll see  
Fire will shine a light on the darkest side  
Carry it on, carry it on"


	15. Caraquet - Lonesome Night

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 15: Caraquet - Lonesome Night

 _Jamie braves the wilderness of New Brunswick, but misfortune lurks around every turn._

* * *

Despite her rural upbringing, Jamie had never been a fan of the outdoors. Oh, she enjoyed the occasional day at the beach or brief walks in the park, but the moment anyone mentioned words like "hiking" or "camping" she was out. Her cousin, Stephan, had been the outdoorsman of the family. He'd often talked about wanting to hike the Appalachian Trail or go overseas and do one of those backpacker tours of Europe. Jamie had called him crazy every time.

 _He'd love this._

When she'd left Anik's, she made sure her pack wasn't too heavy; she had a long way to go and no experience with long distance hikes. Now, though, it felt like she'd stuffed it with bricks the way it pulled at her shoulders. It was time for a break.

She pulled out a small plastic bottle - the only portable container she could find - and took a few sips of water. If she'd calculated right, she'd reach the river in a few hours and get a refill. From there it would be a simple matter of following the river's course until she reached the outskirts of Caraquet.

 _Still_ , she thought, _it never hurts to check_.

The map was folded in her coat pocket, and her fingers ached as she slipped off her gloves to unfold it. She found the river easily, a thin blue line snaking its way south and west from her destination. The tricky part would be finding it from wherever she was. She had tried to keep her feet pointed north, knowing that she'd hit the river at some point. But between the trees and the cloud cover, she had no idea if she'd managed it. Just a few degrees off could mean the difference between life and death.

She reached for her water again, ready to close it up and get back on her feet, but nature had other plans. Dozens of large beetles swarmed the bottle, and as she moved it tilted and spilled onto the forest floor.

"No, no, no!" she tried to grab it, to save what precious liquid was left, but the frigid air had stolen her dexterity and it slipped further away.

Damn!

She jumped away from the log and lifted her pack to keep the bugs out of it. If she let them get to her small food stores, she was done for. Frustration gathered into a growl as she forced herself to take deep breaths.

It's alright, she told herself. You're surrounded by water. You can eat the snow. Just keep moving.

To prove her point she gathered a handful of the white powder and slipped it into her mouth. The crystals melted as they hit her tongue and she shivered as it ran down her throat. Satisfied that she could subsist at least until she reached the river, she turned and kicked the bottle against the log. The beetles scattered and she quickly scooped it up and shoved it into her bag.

"Time to go."

Her voice sounded odd, almost muffled somehow in the snowy forest. Of course, that might have been because she hadn't used it all day. It was rare for her to go so long without speaking. Words were her craft, her profession, and she loved them. They had been her comfort after her mother's passing and her weapon as she battled the beast that had killed her. Words were both ever-changing and unyielding, mercurial and absolute. Their dichotomous nature both fascinated and challenged her, and Jamie gladly rose to meet it everyday.

They would now be her savior.

"Okay, Jamie," she reoriented herself north and began her trek once again. "Time for all of those English classes to pay off."

She spoke as she walked, recalling the most peculiar words she'd ever learned. Hours that amounted to weeks - months, perhaps - spent in the Baton Rouge library devouring book after book each week had expanded her vocabulary well beyond that of a normal person. Words like pauciloquent, cabotage, and infandous; vernalagnia, noceur, and pettifoggery.

The last one made her smile.

She lingered on it for a bit, letting the word sit on her tongue like wine before she opened her mouth to utter it aloud.

"Pettifoggery," she repeated.

A wolf howled in the distance and Jamie froze. Had they followed her all this way, or was this a different pack? She wasn't going to hang around and find out. She pushed the last few steps through the woods into a clearing, and when she was about halfway across she turned to check behind her.

She expected wolves, shadowed forms slinking through the trees, ready to devour her. What she saw was far worse.

Red blotches stained the white snow, spaced almost five feet apart. Jamie glanced down in horror at the blood pooling around her right foot. Sinking to sit, she angled her boot to inspect the bottom. A nail protruded from the sole, and she grimaced in anticipation as she gripped it and pulled it from her foot.

But she felt nothing, no pain, not even a pinch.

That's not a good sign.

Quickly she unlaced her boot and tugged it off. The entire end of her sock was red and sickly wet with blood, though she couldn't feel it. She peeled that off to get a look at her foot and immediately wished she'd hadn't.

The nail had pierced straight through her big toe. Blood coated the entire digit, and Jamie let out a strangled cry. A dozen idioms raced through her mind, each more cliche than the last. In the end, though, they all amounted to the same thing. She was in big trouble.

A howl punctuated her woes, and she scrambled to her feet. Her toe would have to wait. She cleaned it as best she could, packing ice around it to stop the bleeding before shoving her sock back on. The movement had restored some of the circulation, and her toe was beginning to throb like hell. She winced as she slid her foot back into her boot and laced it up. Pain cleared the panic from her mind and she turned around to continue her journey north.

The sun had set long before Jamie found any sort of respite. Around a bend she spotted a shadow, a block that solidified into an old style police cruiser. The cold had seeped into her bones, but seeing something resembling salvation stoked a fire in her again.

"Hey," she called out reflexively. Movement inside the car spurred her on, and she picked up her pace. "Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey!" She jogged the remaining distance. "Officer! Officer, help!" she cried as she reached the door and yanked it open.

"Offic-oh!" Jamie jumped back as the masked vermin looked up from their feast of innards. The man sitting in the driver's seat would be of no help to her. The raccoons chittered angrily at being interrupted, but didn't attack. Instead they scattered, leaping from the car and dashing off into the darkness.

Jamie knew what she had to do. With effort she managed to pull the man from his seat, and she grunted as he tumbled into the snow at her feet. She quickly took his place, hoping beyond hope that his car still ran. She found a flashlight first, and the bright white beam pierced the night as she searched the front seat for keys. She found them already in the ignition.

"Oh, please, please, please," she whispered fervently. But it didn't start. "Come on!" She tried again, but only silence answered. She pounded the steering wheel in frustration as she fought tears. "No, no, no, no, God!" She slumped forward and rested her head against the steering wheel as hopelessness crept over her.

No, she pushed back and sat up straight. "You're okay," she told herself. At least the car would provide shelter from the bitter cold and a place to rest for the night. Tomorrow, she could start fresh. "You're okay," she repeated as exhaustion crept over her. She grabbed the jacket sitting on the passenger seat and draped it over her legs to contain her body heat, trying not to think about the dead man lying just outside the door who no longer needed it. "Caraquet. Caraquet. Caraquet." Her eyes slipped closed as she breathed the word once more.

It was snowing when she woke. The sky was just beginning to turn gray with the dawn, and Jamie sucked in a breath as she stepped out of the car. She told herself it was from the cold and not from the mound of snow beneath her feet that concealed the body of the officer. Jamie grabbed her pack and the policeman's jacket before walking away from the shelter of the car; she'd likely need the extra layer if she didn't make Caraquet by nightfall.

She didn't. Confusion unbalanced her, and she stuttered to a stop. She should have reached the river by now. Her fingers were numb as she fumbled for the map and her flashlight. She studied the paper for a long minute before realizing it was doing no good. She had no idea where she was.

Just keep moving, she told herself. The river is there, you just haven't gotten to it yet.

She put the moon on her right side and kept moving, heading north and praying she hadn't somehow missed the landmark entirely.

"One more step," she muttered. "Just one more step." Her feet didn't ache, but she guessed that was from the cold. Her muscles felt like jelly, but she kept moving. She knew she should stop - at least take a look at her toe - but Jamie knew if she stopped now she'd freeze to death. "Put your foot in front of the other," she told herself. "Then repeat, like, a million more times." She made her legs obey her words, her footfalls heavy in the thick snow.

Something chittered in the darkness and Jamie turned sharply. "Just a critter," she reassured herself. "Yeah," she scoffed a second later, "just a critter says the woman who saw a raccoon family eat dinner on a police officer's chest." She shuffled through the snow as the darkness seemed to close in around her. She knew, subconsciously, that her mind was just creating demons to scare her. There was nothing out there.

Then something pulled at her sleeve and Jamie let out a shriek of surprise. Cold and exhaustion slowed her enough that she didn't immediately lash out at the figure next to her. The fingers that had tugged on her coat now wrapped around her arm like a vice.

"Help me," he rasped.

"Oh my God," she willed her heart rate back to a normal pace as she realized this was no monster; just a man.

"Help, please," he breathed again, and she moved to take some of his weight. He was carrying a small duffel bag, and his fingers clutched at it like his entire life rested inside.

"Come on," she pushed him toward the treeline, knowing there was no point in trying to walk any further tonight. There was no shelter in sight, but at least the forest would stifle the bitter wind that was nipping at her exposed skin.

He stumbled along beside her, obediently following wherever she led. Luckily the moon was almost full, and it didn't take long to find a small copse of trees close enough together to provide cover from the biting wind. A fallen log across the side of a small hill created a nice little nest for them to spend the night. When she gestured to the space he collapsed gratefully in a shivering heap.

Jamie took a moment to study him. He was about her height and slim, and the moonlight made his skin almost ghostly white. His teeth chattered together as she stared down at him, and it was then she realized he wasn't wearing a coat. How he hadn't already frozen to death was anybody's guess.

"Here," she stripped off her outer coat, then shed the policeman's jacket quickly. She bared her teeth as the sub-zero temperatures reached more of her and raced to put her coat back on. The jacket she tossed at her new companion. "Put this on."

"Th-thanks," he muttered, fumbling with the material until it was wrapped around him. He shifted slightly and leaned back against the tree stump, pulling his knees to his chest in an effort to keep himself warm. Luckily he had gloves on or he might have already lost a finger or two to the cold.

"You scared the hell out of me," she told him.

"Sorry," he stuttered. "The name is Logan."

She thought it was funny that his first instinct was to introduce himself as he trembled uncontrollably. "I'm Jamie," she answered. "Logan, use your armpits."

He looked up at her then. "For what?"

"Tuck your fingers under your armpits. When your body's freezing, it focuses all its energy to keep your vital organs warm, so your torso stays toasty." See Stephen, she mused silently, I was paying attention.

Logan did as she said, and he seemed to relax a bit. "Thanks."

Jamie felt her entire body quake as it fought to maintain heat, but it was a losing battle as the temperature kept dropping. She needed something to focus on other than their rather bleak chances of surviving the night. "So were you just chilling in the woods, waiting for someone to scare the bejeezus out of?"

"Yeah," he glanced up. "You got me. I was about to give up, too. Lucky for me that you came along. You made it all worthwhile."

His dry delivery instantly made her think of Mitch and she smiled. "Well, I'm happy to be of service." It hurt to breathe, she noted, as her lungs protested the icy air. She tried to focus on slow breaths through her nose but fatigue was making any sort of concentration impossible.

"Thank you for the coat," Logan went on.

"Sure." Jamie had a million questions for her new companion, but based on his earlier deflection he didn't seem at all eager to share right now. She couldn't blame him really. There were more important things to focus on - like not dying of exposure.

"Some kind of gentleman I'm turning out to be, right? It's the man who's supposed to give up his coat for the lady. Not vice versa." She refused to even acknowledge that with a response. He tucked his head down to gather some warmth before uttering his next words toward the ground. "We're gonna die out here, aren't we?"

"Oh, no," Jamie refuted. "No, no, no, no. No one's dying out here." Even as she spoke she could hear her words slurring together, but still she refused to relent. "We made it this far, we're gonna make it the rest of the way."

"Rest of the way to what?" Logan asked. "Look around. There's nothing out here."

She reached over and grabbed the end of his jacket, ignoring his protest. Her fingers found the seam of the pocket and fished the map from inside. She unfolded it enough to point her gloved finger at their destination.

"See this? This is where we're going. There's shelter. There's hope. And if we're lucky," she looked up at him determinedly, "there's a hell of a lot of vodka...in Caraquet."

"Caraquet," he repeated. "How far is that?"

"I'm not sure," she told him truthfully. "I've been trying to reach the river here," she pointed a little further west and south of the city. "Once we find that, we can follow it all the way to Caraquet."

"You're not sure?" Logan scoffed. "So it could be just over that hill," he looked behind them, "or miles away."

"Yep," she folded the map back and stuffed it into her own pocket. "And in the morning, we'll find that river."

"If we make it to morning." He had already given up. If Jamie hadn't come along when she had, he would have been dead in hours. She knew she'd saved his life tonight, and something in her wouldn't let him die so easily.

"We'll make it," she told him firmly. "We'll make it." She scooted over until they were resting side by side. She tucked her hood around her face completely and laid her head down on her knees as Logan curled toward her. She heard his breathing become shallow and resisted the urge to check and make sure he wasn't dying next to her. He needed rest - they both did. As she drifted off, she whispered her promise once more.

"We'll make it."

* * *

A/N: I am SOOO sorry. I've been keeping up on Ao3 but completely neglecting this site. I'm going to upload all of season 2 tonight and tomorrow, so expect a big dump if you're subscribed.

Inspiration for this chapter title comes from a poem of the same name by Hermann Hesse

"You brothers, who are mine,

Poor people, near and far,

Longing for every star,

Dream of relief from pain,

You, stumbling dumb

At night, as pale stars break,

Lift your thin hands for some

Hope, and suffer, and wake,

Poor muddling commonplace,

You sailors who must live

Unstarred by hopelessness,

We share a single face."

 _Lonesome Night by Hermann Hesse_


	16. Collision Point - Momentum

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 16: Collision Point - Momentum

 _Bizarre things are happening in Geneva as the team investigates the sudden death of a colleague._

* * *

Mitch didn't like the new girl. Everything about her grated on his nerves, from her "bad ass Army Ranger, don't mess with me" stare to her rather impulsive decision making skills. She was brash and rude and confrontational and short-sighted...he could go on for days. But the worst part - the very worst part - was that the rest of the team didn't seem to mind her. They all acted like she was a great asset to the team, like she could just waltz onto _their_ plane and traipse around as though she belonged. It was like they were filling in the Jamie-shaped space among them, and it made Mitch's stomach turn.

Mitch was probably the only one unsurprised when Dariela put two bullets into Kovacs' head. He'd known from the moment they'd found her on the floor of that hovel in Patagonia that she was trouble. Sometimes he hated being right.

"He's dead." Mitch looked up from Kovacs' body as Chloe whirled on the Ranger.

It was nice to see Chloe's force of will aimed at someone who wasn't him. By the time Chloe stormed off, Dariela looked equal parts chastised and pissed off. Mitch just stared at her smugly. She sneered at him and stalked toward the vehicle bay, but not before muttering a vulgar dismissal at him on her way past. He thought about spitting an answering retort, but practicality won out over childish impulses. He needed to get as much information from the body as he could, and every moment counted now.

"We need to get him on the table," he told Jackson and Abe. They helped move the body with minimal chatter, for which Mitch was eternally grateful. As he dove into the tests he could perform without D.C.'s input, Jackson and Abe split off in opposite directions.

It was almost twenty minutes later when an incessant beeping broke through his concentration. He glanced up, worried at first that he'd triggered some sort of biohazard safety feature he'd overlooked. But the sound wasn't emanating from any of the equipment in the lab; it seemed to be further off. He followed the sound to the small meeting room just off the hall, where a wall-mounted screen was flashing an incoming call.

Mitch reached out and pressed the green circle. The beeping stopped and Eleanor's face filled the screen.

"Good evening, Doctor Morgan."

"Is it?" he crossed his arms. "I don't even know what time zone I'm in right now."

She answered with a humorless smile. "Is the rest of the team available? I need to speak with you all."

"I'll go get them." He turned around and made his way through the lab toward the living quarters. He knew Chloe and Jackson had come this way earlier, and he had no intention of speaking to Abe or Dariela unless he had to.

He found them whispering just outside the lounge. They were leaning toward each other conspiratorially, and Mitch felt annoyed. They were hiding something from the team, he knew that much from the quiet conversations they always seemed to stop whenever anyone else drew near. He certainly didn't begrudge them their secrets, but his curious mind had always been intrigued by puzzles. As he neared, he heard Chloe's voice warning Jackson not to tell anyone.

"Ooh, what are we not telling anyone?" They jumped apart guiltily at his sudden appearance, but they didn't elaborate. Resigning himself to another day of not knowing, he hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "Eleanor wants to talk to us."

"Where's Abe?" Jackson asked as they took their seats.

"Sleeping?" Mitch offered unhelpfully. He'd stopped at the bar on the way back and grabbed a drink. He had a feeling he'd need it for this conversation.

"We don't have time for you to wake him." Eleanor's face was tired and drawn as she nodded her greeting to Chloe. "I need you to meet me in Geneva, Switzerland immediately," she said. "They're pushing forward on the Noah Objective. A multinational conference has been assembled here to work out logistics."

"I thought we had more time," Chloe protested.

"General Andrew Davies has taken over," Eleanor explained, "and his methods are aggressive."

"What does that mean?" Jackson asked.

But Eleanor just shook her head. "I'd rather discuss this in person."

"Okay," Chloe agreed, "we'll come as soon as we can."

Something pinged in the back of his mind when Eleanor mentioned the general's name, but there were more pressing matters at the fore. "What about Jamie?"

"Resources are scarce, Dr. Morgan," Eleanor apologized, "but Jamie is still at the top of my list. As soon as there's a team available."

It sounded like a hollow promise, but there was little Mitch could do about it. Chloe answered with a thank you that the rest of them imitated, but Mitch wasn't feeling very thankful. He listened halfheartedly as Chloe made arrangements for Eleanor to meet them at the plane when they landed.

"Stay safe," Chloe signed off, and the screen returned to the twenty four hour news coverage that seemed to be worsening by the day.

Jackson didn't waste time or words. "She seem a little off to you?"

"Yes," Chloe and Mitch twinned.

"Something is wrong," Chloe continued, leaving the ever important question of "what" unasked.

Jackson stood up. "I'll go tell Trotter to set a course for Geneva." He disappeared down the hall, leaving Chloe and Mitch alone in the conference room.

Mitch down the rest of his scotch. "Meanwhile, Jamie is God-knows-where in the Canadian wilderness. _If_ she's still even alive."

"Don't think like that," Chloe shook her head. "You have to have faith."

Mitch snorted derisively and stood up. "Faith?"

"Yes," Chloe stood with him. "Faith that Jamie is strong enough to survive, to stay safe long enough for us to get to her."

"When will that be?" Mitch shot back angrily. "Tomorrow? A week? How long do you think she can survive out there on her own?"

"We're not giving up on her," Chloe began, but Mitch scoffed and stormed past her. "Mitch!" He made a beeline for the living quarters. He lamented the sliding door, wanting nothing more than the satisfaction of slamming it closed behind him.

The rooms were small, barely large enough for the double bed and set of drawers. There was another door that led to an en suite bathroom that he shared with no one. Abe and Jackson were in the rooms across the hall, having surrendered the fight for the master to Chloe almost immediately. Mitch wondered bitterly if he would soon be sharing his bathroom with Dariela.

Given the size of his room, there was no space to properly pace out his frustration. Eleanor's words replayed in his head over and over. _As soon as a team becomes available_. He'd interacted with enough bureaucrats to understand what she meant - they'd get to it when there weren't more pressing matters. Finding Jamie was just an unimportant errand they had to run when the real job was finished.

He felt the plane shift beneath him and guessed Jackson had relayed their new destination to Trotter. Mitch had never been to Switzerland, and he felt guilty for the twinge of anticipation that thrummed through him. He'd always wanted to visit the LHC and stand in the shadows of scientific giants. Maybe he could persuade the others to make a quick visit.

They landed at a small, semi-private airport some hours later and Chloe called Eleanor. Or, at least she tried to.

"She must already be on her way," Chloe keyed her phone off and tucked it back into her pocket. "I'll tell Trotter to let us know if someone comes knocking."

But no one did. They waited for almost an hour, but with still no answer on Eleanor's phone and time running out Chloe decided it was time to venture out. Abe dropped them at the IADG building after volunteering to take Dariela to the train station. There was a military attachment there that could probably get her back to her unit in Sao Paolo.

"I'd say it's been fun," Dariela sketched a salute with two fingers as they climbed out of the back seat in front of the IADG, "but it hasn't."

Mitch sneered and opened his mouth to say something scathing, but Chloe cut him off. "I hope you find a way back to your unit, Lieutenant. Thank you for your help." Mitch wasn't sure, but he thought maybe Chloe shot Abe a look that told him to drive away because he gassed it and zipped off before anyone else could get a word out. Mitch turned to her with a quizzical expression. "What?" she asked innocently.

"'Thank you for your help?'"

"She was very helpful in finding Ydermo."

"She shot our only living specimen for this new Phase 2 mutation," Mitch hissed, mindful of the sensitive nature of their work. There was a beat of silence, then Chloe's eyes cut ever so briefly towards Jackson. Just as quickly they were back on him, but it was enough to send his curiosity into overdrive again.

"We need to find Eleanor," Chloe changed the subject abruptly, which wasn't suspicious at all. Sometime very soon, Mitch was going to corner one of them and demand some answers.

"Come on," Jackson directed them to the building behind them. "Maybe someone here can direct us to her hotel."

They found Eleanor's adjutant, Lieutenant Reed, but he seemed as perplexed as they were that his boss hadn't come to the plane. As he moved off to search for answers, another man took notice of them.

"This is General Davies," Chloe spoke quietly as the general approached. "The man Eleanor warned us about."

As he preached from his soapbox about the Noah Objective, Mitch couldn't help but feel like there was something familiar about the man. He racked his brain, stretching back into the distant memories of days spent pouring over various theses and papers. It hit him just as Davies was finishing up his holier-than-thou reasoning.

"Damn it, I knew it!" he interrupted. "I knew I recognized you. Chloe, Jackson this is _Doctor_ Andrew Davies. He's got a Ph.D. from Cambridge. I read your graduate thesis."

Davies stared coolly at him, thoroughly unimpressed with his revelation. "I'm familiar with your work as well, Doctor Morgan - the study you published about mast cell tumors. The one that was ultimately discredited." He knew he'd scored a hit and turned back to Chloe. "You had your chance to find a cure. You failed. Every day spent discussing how to save the animals means thousands of human lives will be lost. So as much as I'd like to stand here and debate ethics all day, I have a war to win." He turned abruptly and strode away toward a group of attachés waiting in the wings.

"That's the guy who's running the Noah Objective?" Jackson asked.

"And now we're smack dab in the middle of his crosshairs," Mitch added.

Chloe pushed past them and aimed for the door. "We need to find Eleanor now."

They found her half an hour later dead on her hotel room floor. Chloe's mind immediately jumped to assassination, but there was something about the scorch marks on Eleanor's face that made Mitch skeptical.

"If I'm gonna get any answers, I'm gonna need a sample of cerebrospinal fluid," he told them. "Check out her nervous system for any chemicals or radiation." He stood and glanced around, feeling woefully unprepared for the task. He didn't have a syringe or a vial, not to mention a scalpel or needle. Luckily, he was good at improvising.

"Mitch, check this out," Jackson called from across the room.

Mitch looked up from where he was orally siphoning spinal fluid into a straw and gagged. "Little busy here."

"We got company."

Company turned out to be ants - thousands of them. They were swarming toward the electrical socket in a formation Mitch had never seen before. He folded the straw enough to pinch the fluid inside and grabbed the ice bucket.

"Here, scoop up some ants. Hurry before this spinal fluid goes bad."

Jackson took the bucket and smirked. "Now that's a sentence you could go your whole life and never hear."

"We have to go." Chloe had her hands full with Eleanor's computer and files, Jackson had the ants, and Mitch his straw of spinal fluid.

"Man, I hope nobody stops us," Mitch quipped as they walked swiftly toward the elevators. "I'm not sure which of these would be hardest to explain."

Abe was waiting for them in the pick up lane. Chloe had asked him to stay in the car in case they needed a quick exit; Mitch was glad for her foresight. While Abe drove them back to the plane, Chloe called in an anonymous tip about Eleanor's death.

"What do you think killed her?" Jackson leaned over toward Mitch as Chloe filled Abe in.

"Not sure yet," Mitch shrugged. "Whatever it was, it wasn't a pleasant way to die."

Truthfully, Mitch's thoughts weren't on Eleanor and her mysterious death. Much like the last several days since that fateful call in Dalton's Bar, his thoughts were on Jamie. With Eleanor dead would there even been someone to send a team to New Brunswick, or had any hope of saving Jamie died with her?

There was a collective sigh of relief as the ramp closed them up in the vehicle bay. He knew the plane wasn't completely safe, but Mitch felt better as he walked into the relatively new comfort of his lab.

"Put the ants in there," he gestured toward a small acrylic tank. He carefully transferred the spinal fluid from the straw into a proper container as Jackson dumped the ants out of the bucket. Chloe sat down in front of the monitor and turned up the news report that was now showing a picture of Eleanor.

"If you're just joining us, we're covering breaking news out of Geneva, Switzerland, where IADG consultant, Eleanor Lewis, was found dead in her hotel room. The cause of death has not been released…"

Mitch drowned out the rest as he carefully prepared the vials for his tests. It had been a while since he'd been in med school, but he'd always had a good memory for procedures. Chemistry had been one of his best subjects thanks to his mother.

"I'm sorry," he heard Jackson say softly, and glanced over to where he stood behind Chloe. "I really am. We, uh, we need to reach out to someone else in Eleanor's department."

Chloe's next words sealed Jamie's coffin. "She didn't have a department. It was just her and Amelia. With both of them gone, we're working alone."

Mitch couldn't look up from his work, but he made sure his tone reflected his sour mood. "Which means there's no search team being sent to look for Jamie."

"Hey, Mitch, no one's giving up on Jamie." Jackson began. "We will find a way to -"

Mitch didn't let him get far. "No one is gonna waste any resources looking for a redhead lost in the woods, right?" He leveled the younger man with a piercing stare, daring him to argue. "Right?" But Jackson couldn't.

Behind him, the reporter's tone lifted as he introduced a new story. "...this information is coming to us live. Authorities have discovered five more unexplained deaths in Geneva, bringing the total count..." Mitch zoned out the surrounding noise and concentrated on the slide. There was something weird about the sample, something he'd never seen before. It almost looked like…

 _Can't be_.

But, then again, he'd said that a lot in the last year.

"...maybe this is bigger than General Davies."

"Or smaller," Mitch corrected Jackson.

"What's that?" Jackson and Chloe moved to peer over Mitch's shoulder at the screen.

"That," Mitch explained, "is Eleanor's cerebrospinal fluid."

"What are those?" Jackson gestured at the discolored blobs floating in the medium.

Mitch tapped a few keys on the board. "Check this out." The image shifted, and the blobs sharpened into a recognizable form.

"There was an ant inside Eleanor's spine when she died?" Chloe asked.

Jackson took her thought one step further. "So the ants killed her?"

Mitch shrugged. "Maybe."

"How?"

Mitch was just as confused as they were on that particular score. He had no idea how an ant had even gotten into Eleanor's spinal fluid, much less caused the scorching he'd seen on her body.

"What is it?" Abe returned from the vehicle bay as they all stood around the microscope. Mitch knew it was his job to explain the science stuff, but the grudge he was currently harboring reared its head again. With barely a glance at Jackson, he sauntered past Abe and made a beeline for the bar.

When he returned Chloe had disappeared and the other two were huddled around the cube of ants. Mitch sank against the steel stairs as he half-listened to Jackson and Abe ramble on about ant mating rituals. Theirs was an odd friendship, for sure.

"Ok," Chloe was on the phone as she walked back into the room. "We'll be there as soon as we can." Mitch stood and made his way around as she looked up at them. "That was Dariela."

"What does she want?" Abe asked.

"Yeah, and why do we care?" Mitch added snidely.

"She wants to show us something," Chloe explained. "Says it's important to what we're working on."

Mitch snorted derisively into his scotch. "Well, so is that creature formerly known as Janos Kovacs, but that didn't stop her from putting a bullet in his brain."

Mitch saw the eyeroll Jackson held back as he stood. "I'll go with you." He followed Chloe out the door, leaving Abe waiting expectantly.

"Oh, I-I don't need any help," Mitch drawled. _And I wouldn't ask you if I did._

But Abe wasn't looking at Mitch. "That's strange." Mitch followed the other man's gaze down to the ants, who were gathered in a front corner of the glass cube. Abe was right - it was strange - but Mitch didn't say so. "They all seem to determined to move in that one direction." For the sake of science, Mitch picked up the box and turned it around. The ants immediately reversed direction and returned to the front corner. "And they seem to be drawn to something," Abe added. "But what?"

"I have no idea," Mitch tried to sound as disinterested as possible (though internally his mind was screaming at him to figure out this new mystery). "I could ponder that a while, but I'd rather ponder this." He lifted his drink and took another long sip. He hoped Abe got the hint and left him alone.

But when Abe stood, it wasn't to leave. Instead he leaned in toward Mitch with a piercing stare. "Mitch," the word was an invitation - maybe even part of an apology- but it was still too soon.

"What?" He couldn't keep the bite from his own voice (not that he'd tried too hard).

"Jamie would have wanted you to finish what we began."

He wasn't sure if it was Abe's use of the past tense, or the sharp contrast of his words against Chloe's earlier optimism. Maybe it was just her name, two syllables that seemed to slice straight through the hastily constructed armor he'd been cobbling together ever since New Brunswick. Whatever it was, it rendered the logical, orderly part of his mind silent. The roar in his ears erupted from his throat as he lunged at the larger man.

Mitch saw the moment of surprise on Abe's face as the normally stoic scientist launched himself across the space and threw a sloppy punch at his nose. Mitch's hip bumped the corner of the exam table, sending his punch wide as pain cut through the haze of anger.

Abe grabbed Mitch's arms to steady him. "Whoa, Mitch. Mitch! Calm down!"

Mitch shoved away and Abe let him go. His muscles trembled with excess energy, ready to go at him again, but his higher brain functions had kicked back on and he forced himself to keep his distance. It helped that his eyes were still closed and he didn't have to see the expression on Abe's face.

"I didn't want to leave her there," Abe's voice was quiet and even, but his words were igniting the fire again. "I made a difficult call. To save _your_ life."

Mitch clenched his fists tightly for a count of three then relaxed them. "I didn't need saving," he finally opened his eyes and stared hard at Abe. "She did."

"She was my friend, too -"

"Stop," Mitch's voice broke then. "Stop talking like she's gone."

They had been in this very situation before, only the last time Mitch had been strapped to a hospital bed. He expected Abe's soft apology, his insistence that Mitch listen to the logical part of his mind and begin to accept the reality that Jamie would likely never be found.

But it never came.

"Perhaps she isn't," Abe agreed. "Jamie is remarkably resourceful, and strong. I was wrong before," he admitted, "and perhaps I am wrong now. But even if I am, there is nothing you can do right at this moment. Right now, you can help us solve this piece of the puzzle so that we can move on. We will find a way to look for her, Mitch. I promise. But we need you right now."

For a moment neither man spoke, and Mitch feared he would have to be the one to break the awkward silence. The fact that Abe was right didn't make Jamie's absence any more bearable, or their abandonment of her any less shameful. But whatever the outcome, there was something going on here that needed his immediate attention. He would pay the penance for it later.

The sound of electricity crackling ended the silence, and the two men leaned in toward the ants.

"What?" Blue arcs of lightning slipped across the surface of their mass, dancing in between and around the tiny bodies as it intensified with each second.

"Okay, that's...weird," Mitch admitted. After a moment's hesitation he downed the remainder of his drink and sighed. "Luckily, we've gotten very good at weird."

Abe disappeared to check on news reports as Mitch got to work. There wasn't really much to do except monitor the ants' output and try to discover any triggers. So far, he couldn't find one.

"Mitch!" Abe's voice was insistent but not urgent, so Mitch finished what he was doing before joining Abe in the conference room. A news story was just wrapping up about another explosion in Geneva.

"That's two in the last hour alone," Abe commented. "We should check in with Jackson and the others and see if there are any other incidents associated with electrocution."

"You call, I'll type."

Jackson picked up on the third ring. "Yeah?"

"Have you heard about the explosions?" Abe asked.

"Yeah, we just saw one of them," Jackson answered. "There's dead ants everywhere."

"They're generating electricity," Mitch raised his voice to be heard.

"What are you talking about?"

"The ants we collected, they can generate electricity. That's how they're killing people."

"Hold on, you're saying ants are electrocuting people?" Dariela's voice was grating even over the speakerphone.

"Yup," Mitch confirmed abruptly. "That's what happened to Eleanor." He and Abe had descended to the lower level of the lab and were now parked in front of a computer terminal. "Enough of these ants together could generate a powerful enough charge to…"

"Blow up a transformer?" Chloe finished for him.

"First people, now transformers - what's next?" Dariela growled.

"Ants move in a straight line," Jackson posited.

Chloe was on the same wavelength. "Where were the other explosions?"

Mitch searched quickly and created a map of all of the reported incidents. "Power station," he told them, "near PARC Trembley." He guessed that was where they were now. "Next one was just over the border in um, Les Pug- Puj- Pugins-"

" _Les Pugins_ ," Chloe pronounced helpfully.

Abe leaned in and peered at the screen. "We've mapped all the deaths caused by ants, including Eleanor. They all fall along the same line." Mitch saw Abe's head turn toward the ants, who were still clamoring and crackling in their cage. "What if all of the ants in Geneva were heading to the same place?"

Mitch analyzed the map and took a moment to appreciate the irony. _Well_ , he thought, _at least I won't have to ask the others to make an extra stop._

Apparently the threat of an imminent runaway fusion reaction was enough to get them access into the main control room of the LHC. When Abe and Mitch arrived, Jackson and Chloe were already arguing with the scientists there. It took some doing, but eventually they all agreed on a plan.

Unfortunately, that plan meant the trigger-happy Ranger was with them.

"Are you saying the ants are smart enough to know they can call this...what's it called?" They were jogging down a long tunnel, and Mitch was suddenly regretting not keeping up with his cardio.

"Runaway fusion reaction," he huffed between steps. "And no, they're not that self-aware. It's more like a biological imperative."

They came to a T-intersection and skidded to a halt. An entire army of ants was marching down the corridor. Mitch warned them to keep back but Jackson was already out in the middle, in the path of the deadly swarm. Mitch reached for Jackson, knowing it was too late. A group of ants a fraction of this size had killed Eleanor; there was no way he could get away in time.

But Mitch never heard the zap of electricity or the screams of his friend. Instead, the sea of ants parted and shifted _around_ Jackson's feet, leaving him untouched in their wake.

"Whoa," Dariela breathed. "Did you see that?"

"Yes, I did." But Mitch could only wonder at the phenomenon he'd just witnessed, another small piece of the puzzle clicking into place. This had something to do with Jackson and Chloe's secret conversations, he was sure of it. And now he was a little more sure of just what it was they were trying to hide. They were definitely going to have a little chat when this was all over. _If_ they survived.

They barreled through a door and down several flights of stairs. Jackson's phone rang as they ran, and Mitch only half paid attention.

"Yeah, we just saw a river of them," Jackson yelled. "I'll let you know when we're there. Hold tight."

They dropped a few more flights and passed too many doors to count. Mitch wasn't even sure if they were getting close. As they passed through another door, Jackson lifted the phone back to his ear.

"Hey, we're at the collision point," he yelled.

Chittering filled the space, and they turned to see millions of ants converging on the point. They were using the pipes as a pathway, marching in almost a straight line toward their goal.

"Time to find this override," Dariela got them moving again. Mitch was lost, but thankfully Jackson seemed to be on the phone with someone who knew what they were doing.

"We're at the fourth station," he said. "It's got to be over there." He gestured toward a red door and ran for it, the other two close on his heels. They crashed through it into a large space that looked straight out of a science fiction novel.

It was more impressive than the photos Mitch had seen. It would be his luck to finally be inside the belly of the beast and be unable to fully appreciate the intricacies and mechanisms at work here. Jackson found the override handle behind a glass barrier, complete with digital combination lock.

"No one said it would locked," Jackson grumbled. The ants were closing in fast - they needed to throw that switch now. Jackson began slamming his elbow into the pane and quickly discovered it wasn't glass. It barely cracked.

 _Great_ , Mitch groaned internally. _What else could go wrong?_

Jackson struck again and the crack grew, but it still wasn't enough. He needed more time.

"Yo, lab rat!" Dariela called. Mitch turned with a glare at the nickname, then followed her eyes to the yellow extinguisher on the far wall. "Found something to shoot."

Mitch looked at the canister then at the approaching army and figured out her plan instantly. It wasn't a bad one. He moved to unbuckle the thing from its holster as Dariela drew her weapon.

"Hurry up, they're closing in!" she shouted unhelpfully. "Come on!"

Mitch pried the the canister free and held it low, ready to toss it out over the pipes. "Can you do this?"

"Just throw it!" she commanded.

The yellow extinguisher flew up and over the railing, and out of the corner of his eye Mitch saw Dariela track it with her sidearm. The moment it was near the ants she fired. The explosion pushed them back a little, and Mitch held his hand over his face to block some of the heat. When it had dissipated, he looked up.

A large section of the piping was gone and the gases inside hissed as they vented into the open air. Just beyond it, Mitch heard another noise - a familiar one. Blue sparks lit up the area enough to see, and he watched in fascinated dismay as the ants began building a bridge.

"Jackson!" he cried. "Charge it up!" He heard another slam, and looked over to see Jackson's elbow finally break the pane. He and Dariela regrouped as Jackson gripped the handle. "Alright, there's gonna be a shock wave." Jackson twisted and a high pitched whine turned into a loud hum as the energy gathered. Lightning arced from the ants, and Mitch felt the hairs on his arm and neck stand up.

When it happened, it felt like someone had hit him with an AED. They all grunted as they were knocked prone, and it took Mitch several seconds before he tried to sit up.

Next to him, Jackson was doing the same. "You guys okay?"

"Did we win?" Dariela pushed herself to her feet, but immediately began coughing and gagging.

"Dariela?"

For the first time, Mitch saw what he guessed was panic on her face as she clutched at her throat. "I think I may have swallowed one of those bastards."

Mitch cursed under his breath for a third time as Jackson shut off the power to the makeshift electric chair they'd rigged. It had been the only solution Mitch could think of; zap the ant before it could zap her. He'd guessed the ant needed to get to her central nervous system before it could do any damage, so they had some time. Jackson had called Abe and Chloe to relay the list of items Mitch needed and to find out where the nearest power console was located. Luckily it hadn't been far.

"Put em on," Mitch directed Chloe, who had brought a voltmeter. She placed the probes on Dariela's temples and they waited. Nothing. "We're good," he said. "The ant's dead." It looked like Dariela was as well. She wasn't breathing, and Mitch shook his head as he pressed two fingers against her throat. "She's got no pulse. Okay, get her on the floor."

Abe was panicking, and Mitch wondered not for the first time if something had happened between the two of them. He'd never seen the big guy so frantic before. Mitch could sympathize. Knowing someone you cared about was in danger or dead was bad enough; watching it happen in front of you was worse.

Mitch didn't fight when Abe took over the CPR. The rest of them could only watch helplessly as Abe alternated chest compressions and rescue breaths.

"Come on," Abe muttered under his breath. Mitch contemplated putting her back in the chair to see if they could jump start her heart, but then she coughed once, twice, and she was breathing again. Jackson and Chloe smiled in relief; Mitch was just glad the whole thing was over.

Dariela's voice was rough with exhaustion when she finally spoke. "Did it work?"

"Good news is yes," Mitch shrugged.

"And the bad news?"

"You might have a dead ant floating around inside you somewhere," he drawled. Dariela smiled as Abe helped her sit up.

"Come on," Jackson reached down and hauled her to her feet. "Let's get out of here."

They raced the sun back across the Atlantic, but no one on the plane saw it save Trotter. Exhaustion had crept up on them quickly, and everyone separated to their bunks almost the moment they were safely back onboard.

Mitch collapsed face first into his comforter and stayed there until oxygen became an issue. He rolled to his side then to his back in slow, exaggerated movements. The shock wave from the collision point had rattled his body, and he was beginning to feel an ache deep in his muscles. A hot shower was probably a good idea, but he couldn't muster the energy to stand.

Settling on taking one the moment he woke, Mitch slipped his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand. His hand brushed the framed picture there - hastily taken with his phone on one of their early adventures - of a vibrant smile and piercing blue eyes. Eleanor had asked for a photo of Jamie to give to the rescue team before they'd gone to New Brunswick, and on an impulse Mitch had printed an extra for himself. It wasn't the best quality and it was printed on regular copy paper, but it was the only photo he had of her.

He hadn't even known it was on his phone until he went scrolling through his photos one day a few months ago. She had taken it herself, judging on the angle of the camera and the partial view of her outstretched arm. He had no idea when she might have done it but judging from the gleam in her eyes it was likely early in their adventures, before the weight of it all had begun to wear them down. Before Ben Schaffer and Clearwater, Florida.

Whenever she had taken it, he was grateful for it. Back when he'd thought her dead, he'd been genuinely afraid that one day he would wake and be unable to remember that the exact shade of blue in her eyes or the way her mouth quirked up whenever she teased him. Seeing that picture had been a soothing balm on the raw, gaping wound her supposed death had left in him.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment's indulgence. He imagined that she was there with him now, sitting quietly on the edge of his bed. She would cant her head just so and smile down at him, maybe even sift her nimble fingers through his hair. If he held his breath he could hear hers, steady and strong. When he inhaled again, the smell of her shampoo would fill his nostrils as she leaned down to press a kiss against his cheek.

 _Get some sleep, Professor._

So he did.


	17. Walls of Jericho - A Long Walk

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 17: Walls of Jericho - A Long Walk

 _Logan's past comes back to haunt him and Jamie as they trek through the Canadian wilderness._

* * *

 _Two weeks after she'd graduated the second grade, Jamie had broken her ankle playing down by the creek with her cousins. Stephen had dared her to do something stupid - truthfully, she couldn't even recall what. But, being the only girl in her generation and constantly surrounded by competitive boys, she'd done it. Because back when she was eight, the only thing that she'd ever had to worry about was being home in time for supper._

 _The pain had been awful. Jamie remembered the scream that had come almost immediately after the sickening crack of her bones. Even now - over twenty years later - she remembered being confused at the sound until she realized it was coming from her. Reese had carried her back to his house with the twins trailing frantically behind. Her aunt and youngest cousin, Charlie, had met them on the porch with worried expressions and words of comfort. And even though her ankle was swollen and discolored, even though it throbbed with every beat of her heart, she felt better because she knew her family would take care of her._

 _She was safe._

Jamie stifled a hiss of pain as she stepped wrong, her foot unused to balancing with only four toes instead of five. Logan hadn't been lying when he'd said it would hurt despite the numbness in her foot. His aim had been good at least; her large toe had been amputated right at the joint. It hadn't bled much because of the cold. Jamie guessed she should be thankful for small miracles.

"You okay?" Logan's voice was loud in the stifling silence of the forest.

"Yeah," she dismissed his concern and hid her pain when he looked back over his shoulder. He frowned but kept walking.

"We should take a break," he pushed. "We've been walking for hours."

"We need to get as far as we can before nightfall," she countered shortly. She was still royally pissed at him, and her anger combined with the agony to make her terse and grouchy. Her stomach growled to remind her that she hadn't eaten in - was it almost a full day now? She added hunger to the list of things that were shortening her temper.

Ahead of her, Logan - whoever he really was - grumbled something under his breath. She guessed it was probably unflattering so she ignored it. If they didn't find shelter before the sun set they'd likely freeze tonight. Their food stores had run out the night before, and without the added energy boost there was little chance they'd survive another night of sub-zero temperatures.

She stumbled again and was unable to contain the curse that slipped out. Logan turned and crossed his arms stubbornly.

"We're stopping," he told her.

"I'm fine," she insisted, shuffling a few more steps to walk past him and take the lead.

His arm came out and barred her path, pressing against the jut of her collarbone through her jacket. "Just a few minutes," he bargained. "I need to change your dressing anyway."

He was right, but Jamie was still mad at him so she didn't say it. Instead, she let her pack fall from her shoulders and hobbled to a nearby rock. Logan dug through her bag and pulled out the meager first aid kit she'd found in Anik's basement. The medication inside had long expired, but there was a roll of medical tape, a few strips of gauze, and several bandaids inside.

She swatted his hands away when he tried to help her with her laces. He frowned but said nothing, letting her pull the string almost fully from the boot in order to get her foot out without jostling it too much.

The bandage was saturated with reddish-brown blood, but as he carefully unwrapped her foot she was glad to see that the rest of her foot looked good. The infection had been stopped. Logan wiped away the seepage on the gaping wound as Jamie shoved a handful of snow into her mouth to keep from screaming. It melted and slid down her throat as Logan rewrapped her foot with a clean bandage.

"We're running out medical supplies," he told her when he was done. "How close are we?"

Jamie shrugged and slid her boot back on. "Not sure how far off course we got." She laced it and cinched it tight. "Shouldn't be more than a day or two."

"You think we can last that long without food?" he growled.

"Yeah, well," she pushed herself to her feet and lifted her pack from the ground, "if you had been upfront with me from the beginning, we might have gotten there by now."

She couldn't see his face but she could hear the derision in his tone as he rose to follow her. "Yes, because that's the reason we're lost, not the fact that _beavers_ redirected an entire river to flood a mine."

She knew it probably wasn't fair to blame their delays on him, but he was the only target she had at the moment so he could just deal with it. They walked for a bit longer over rough, craggy land. A gentle breeze swayed the trees, and through the intermittent cloud cover the sunbeams danced off the rocks. Jamie might have enjoyed herself if this were a simple day hike (freezing temperatures notwithstanding) but having been out in the elements for almost four days now, she was tired of it.

"It's getting dark," Logan pointed out.

"Yeah, I can see that," she hissed. She really had hoped to find something resembling shelter for the night. Without it, their chances of making it to morning dropped drastically.

"We should find some firewood." She knew he was trying to be helpful, but every moment she spent in his presence only reminded her that he'd lied to her. They separated enough to look in different areas for anything useable, but the snow had soaked every branch and twig lying on the ground.

Jamie stooped to pick one up from beneath the shelter of a tree root, thinking maybe the cover had protected it from the elements. But it squished between her fingers as she lifted it, and Jamie scoffed.

"You know," Logan called from several yards away, "something tells me you're still pissed."

He was doing this _now_? Okay, then. "You lied to me." The stick made a dull thud as she tossed it hard against the tree trunk. "Over and over again. About your girlfriend dying, about why you're out here."

"That's because I didn't want you to run away. Which," he pointed out, "you did anyway. And for what it's worth, now I've told you everything."

It wasn't worth much.

Off in the distance an animal growled. It sounded like a wolf, and Jamie shivered. Logan raised the gun and pulled the hammer back.

"Hey, what are you doing?" She tried to reach for him, but he was too far away.

He aimed high. "I'm scaring him away."

"No, you're ringing the dinner bell," she chided. "They hear that, they're all gonna come running."

Logan paused, then relented, releasing the hammer and tucking the sidearm away. "Why'd you have to mention dinner? Now I'm freezing _and_ starving."

She guessed he was probably starving before. She was, too. Maybe at least a fire would raise their spirits and keep the animals away. She looked for a dry stick - even a dry twig would be good now - but it was futile.

Logan wasn't having any better luck. "This is useless; everything's soaked."

She turned to him and her eyes fell on the duffel bag resting against his side. "Not everything." She knew for fact from her earlier snooping that he had a large bundle of cash inside. His duffel was well insulated, and had kept everything inside nice and dry.

He followed her gaze and shook his head. "Not my money!"

"We have to," she reasoned.

"No, there's not -"

"It's the only dry thing we have."

"No, there's not a chance," he argued.

"Hey!" she cut him off angrily. "We are going to die out here. It is negative degrees. We have no shelter. If we don't get a fire lit soon, a severed toe is gonna feel like a massage."

He grimaced, then sighed. Defeated, he slid the strap over his head and tossed the bag to the ground. "You're right," he said. "We're gonna die out here anyway."

Sounding more confident than she felt, Jamie knelt and began unzipping the bag. "Not tonight."

It took some doing, but eventually they found an area that was relatively protected from the wind. She piled the money up neatly and laid sticks around it so they could dry to be used later. Jamie had grabbed a lighter from Anik's before she'd left in case she had to build a fire. Luckily it still had fuel.

The bills caught quickly, and in no time at all they had a nice campfire going. The heat felt like heaven, and they both huddled as close as they could without getting singed. After they had both warmed up a bit, Jamie filled the water bottle with snow and set it by the fire to melt. Logan collected some rocks and set them in a rough circle around the flames, and when they'd grown warm enough he stuffed them inside his coat.

"Does that work?" Jamie asked him.

"It doesn't hurt," he countered, and she did the same. The heat from the rock seeped through her layers of clothing and warmed her chilled skin.

"We'll sleep in turns," Jamie offered. "You can go first."

"You sure?" Logan looked about ready to fall out.

Jamie wasn't much better, but she could manage a few more hours. "Yeah, go ahead. I'm too wired to sleep right now."

They slept in two hour shifts. Jamie woke Logan up with a rough kick, greedily taking his place by the fire as he perched on the log. She'd warmed some stones while he slept, and now they were nestled snugly at her waist as she bedded down. Her pack wasn't the best pillow she'd ever had, but it beat lying her head on the cold ground.

Despite her previously wandering mind, Jamie didn't dream. She supposed her body and mind were trying to recover from the grueling ordeal she was subjecting them to. She took her second shift a little less eagerly, forcing herself to wait just a few more moments before waking Logan for his turn.

He blinked blearily as she woke him, and as his mind tried to hold onto the last vestiges of sleep he looked different. The hard lines of his face were softened slightly, as though he had slipped off a mask. Then his eyes locked with Jamie's in the flickering firelight, and he frowned.

"Already?" he croaked.

"'Fraid so." She waited rather impatiently as he vacated what had quickly become their sleeping area. He yawned and stretched as she laid down, and as she drifted off she heard him toss the last of the cash onto the burning pile. The sticks she'd dried out earlier were piled just out of reach of the embers, ready to be used whenever their first fuel source dwindled. Jamie couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, and as they fell closed she thought she heard someone whisper her name.

"Jamie," it came again, and she spun around. Only she wasn't on the cold ground any longer. All around her the trees moaned in the wind, creating a frightening cacophony that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Jamie," the voice called once more, and this time she knew it.

"Mitch?"

"Jamie!" Mitch's voice was all around her, slipping in and around the tree trunks like a snake, but no matter which way she turned she couldn't pinpoint his location.

"Mitch, where are you?"

"Jamie, run!"

From the shadows a wolf emerged, larger than she'd ever seen before. Its eyes were yellow as it snapped viciously, pulling its lips back from its gleaming white teeth. Jamie felt its growl shake her very bones, and finally her body heeded Mitch's warning.

She ran.

At first she tried to outmaneuver it, zigzagging through the trees. But no matter which way she twisted and turned, the wolf was always on her heels, snarling and snapping. She hit a clearing and sprinted, straining her muscles to their absolute limit as she tried to outrun the beast. Still it gave chase, easing its gait to give her just enough room to feel safe before closing the distance with a menacing bark.

"Run, Jamie!"

 _Gee, thanks Mitch. I hadn't thought of that!_

Jamie knew she couldn't keep this pace forever. Sooner or later the wolf would catch her, and she would die. She turned her head to see how close the beast was. In that instant it lunged, slamming into her back and sending her crashing to the ground under gnashing teeth and the feel of its hot, acrid breath on her neck.

Jamie bolted upright, her eyes wide and wild as her chest heaved with the effort of the distance she'd never run.

"Jamie?" Logan's quiet voice was tinged with concern, and over the fire she could see he'd half-risen from his place on the log.

"I'm fine." She ran her fingers through her grimy hair, longing for a warm shower and a hot meal. "Just a nightmare."

"Worse than the one we're living right now?" For all his faults, Jamie had to give him his due for trying to lighten the mood with his dry humor.

"No," she chuckled, but then shook her head. "Yes. I...it was just a dream."

"Alright," Logan stood. "It's almost dawn anyway. At least I think it is. You've been asleep for about two hours or so."

"Okay." Jamie pushed herself up and stretched, wincing as she overbalanced on her right foot.

"How far do you think we are from Caraquet?" Logan asked as she limped over to his side of the fire.

"We should get there today." Truthfully she had no idea, but they couldn't be far.

"What then?"

"My friends will find us there," she answered confidently. "We can take you wherever you want after that."

"And if they're not there?"

"They will be." There was no alternatives, no maybes. Her friends would be there. Mitch would be there.

Logan pursed his lips, but said nothing more on the subject. "I need to change the dressing again," he pointed to her foot.

For all the comfort and security the fire provided them, it had also restored most of her circulation. When Logan peeled the bandage off, she felt the hot stab of pain shoot up to her hip. He grabbed the bottle, now full of hot water, and poured it over the bloody area.

"Son of a bitch!" Jamie hissed.

"Almost done," he promised. "Don't want you losing your whole foot."

Jamie tried to focus on something else as he wiped the bloody water and grime away. "Yeah, you just don't want to carry me."

He chuckled and reached for the last of their medical gauze. "What makes you so sure your friends are gonna meet you in Caraquet?"

"Before I took off from the compound, I left a message on the roof," she braced herself back on her arms and watched him tape the gauze to her foot.

"A message?" he glanced up.

"Caraquet," she explained. "I spelled it out in rocks."

"You think your friends are gonna be able to spot a town name that you wrote on a roof?"

"Yeah, they will." The pain was subsiding back into the dull ache that seemed to be ever-present. She wondered if it would ever go away. She wished Mitch was here so she could ask him. Hell, she wished Mitch was here period. Jamie wondered what he was doing right now. Was he looking for her?

 _Of course he is_ , she scolded herself. If their situations were reversed, she'd be searching for him every waking moment.

"Mitch will," she went on.

Logan's brow raised curiously. "Mitch?"

Was that a note of jealousy in his voice? _Oh no_ , she thought, _this can't be happening_. "Yeah, Mitch. He's my…" What was he again? They hadn't done much more than kiss, so she couldn't call him her lover. Boyfriend sounded too trite and, though he was significant in her life, she wasn't sure if that label fit either.

Logan either didn't notice how she'd trailed off or had ignored it. "Well, you're sure putting a lot of stock into this Mitch guy if you think he's gonna spot your little rock message, know that it was you who left it, and make his way all the way to Caraquet." His demeanor had changed at the mention of Mitch and Jamie groaned internally. That was all she needed right now.

Jamie hadn't let herself think about Mitch for the last few days, focused as she was on surviving. Daydreaming while trekking through the Canadian wilderness just didn't seem like a great idea. Now that they were relatively stationary for the time being, she allowed her mind to wander. She remembered how focused he had been during those early tests, not invested in the outcome but in the mystery that had been presented to him. His dry, sometimes blunt remarks had actually endeared him to her somewhat, and she had been pleased to see that he dropped his brash, snarky facade whenever they were alone. He was smart as well as witty, and he made her laugh - something that had been lacking her life. And, not only had he taken her seriously, he'd gone out of his way to help her on her personal quest. The implication of that hadn't been lost on her, and as their time together grew so, too, had her feelings for the cynical scientist.

Jamie hadn't had a lot of people in her corner in a long while. Watching Mitch effectively place his life on hold for her had a profound effect. He'd flown halfway around the world and back, been shot at, held hostage, mauled by a bear, survived a plane crash...all because she'd asked him to accompany her to Louisiana with a flimsy piece of evidence and a theory. If he cared about her that much - _loved_ her that much - then a little thing like 20 kilometers or so of bleak wilderness wouldn't stop him from finding her.

Jamie settled on the only thing she could think of to reply to Logan's jealousy. "Yeah, well, you don't know Mitch." It seemed like enough, because Logan remained quiet. She hoped that was the end of it; she did not relish the thought of being the target of Logan's affections if he hadn't gotten the hint.

Moments later a sound pierced the hush around them, and Jamie feared she was hallucinating. She hadn't slept well in days, and the only thing she'd eaten in 24 hours was handfuls of snow. The hypervigilance their situation warranted didn't allow for any respite, and she'd read stories of people going crazy in similar circumstances; she just never thought she'd be one of them. Then she saw the headlights that accompanied the purr of an engine and her heart leapt.

"Hey!" She jumped up and started waving her arms frantically. "Hey! Hey!"

Logan stood beside her and she expected to hear his voice add to hers in a cry for help. But it didn't. His arms came out to grab her and haul her back down while his feet worked to kicked dirt over their campfire.

"What are you doing?" Jamie watched as their only source of heat was snuffed out. "What's wrong with you?" The car drove by them and showed no indication they'd seen the two travelers in the middle of the forest.

Still, Logan sounded worried. "Maybe I didn't tell you everything," he admitted. "We need to go."

He pulled her to her feet hastily, and Jamie hissed in pain. Her foot was definitely not appreciating the rough treatment.

"Are you kidding me?" she yelled at his back, but his only response was to turn with a finger at his lips.

"Shh!"

He set a grueling pace, ignoring her protests and only slowed slightly to allow for her injured gait. Every time she tried to ask a question he shut her down, insisting that they keep moving. Finally Jamie had had enough.

"Logan, wait!'

"We have to keep moving," he repeated.

"No," she resisted. "I want to know what's going on. Are those the guys that hired you?"

"Yes."

'Well, just tell them the truth. Tell them the leopard's gone." There was more to his story - he'd admitted as much himself - but getting it out of him was going to be difficult.

"It's more complicated than that," was all he replied.

Well, Jamie could be stubborn, too. She came to a halt in a small clearing. "I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on."

He turned with an expression that was part frustration, part fear. Whoever these guys were, Logan was terrified of them. "You're gonna get us killed."

Obviously, there was only one way to get the information out of him. "No," Jamie glanced around, "I'm gonna find a place to sit down. Because, uh, running around on nine toes kind of takes it out of a girl."

"Okay, okay, fine," Logan relented. "They paid me. Hired me, like I said. But they only paid me ten grand."

That couldn't be right. "You had a lot more than that in that bag."

"I know," Logan hedged. "I wasn't mine. It was a...down payment. From a buyer."

"You're a thief," Jamie clarified.

"No, I'm a dead man. And so are you if they find out we burned their money. I mean, not a man," he stammered nervously, "but a...you know, you'll be dead."

"Alright, just -" Jamie stopped him before he could ramble further. "They can't find us. Let's go."

In what was probably the world's fastest acting spite the world had ever sent her way, another voice cut through the forest.

"Hi, Logan." The man was in his thirties, with scraggly brown hair and hard eyes. He held a gun lazily in his right hand, but Logan raised his arms anyway. Around them, two more men emerged from the woods. "You have something that belongs to us," the first man continued. "We'd like it back now."

"I don't have it," Logan answered quickly. "We got attacked by a pack of wolves, I had to leave it."

It was a flimsy lie, and the man didn't look convinced. Still, he humored them. "Where?"

"About a mile back that way," Jamie pointed.

He looked at one of his companions and gestured with his gun. "Go." He did, leaving Jamie and Logan facing two very angry looking men. "You two, over there," he herded them between a pair of trees then gestured at Jamie. "Give me that bag."

She slid it off her shoulders and handed it over quickly before raising her hands to mimic Logan's pose. Their captor kept the gun in his hand as he rifled through the pack.

"This is all you have?" he laughed. "I'm honestly surprised you two haven't died from exposure or starvation yet. You're like a cockroach, Logan. Hard to kill, huh?" Logan wisely kept his mouth shut as the man upended the bag and dumped its meager contents on the ground. "I don't see any money," he teased. He knew they didn't have it.

"I told you," Logan said finally, "I tossed it when we started running. Just figured you guys would find it."

"Well, we didn't," he tossed the bag to the ground. "And if we don't, I'm gonna throw you off a cliff."

Jamie had no idea what possessed her to stick her neck out for Logan, but she couldn't let him die for this. "He's telling the truth. I watched him do it."

In the distance, some animal made a horrifying sound that startled all of them. Well, all of them except for the man with the gun.

He just smiled. "Sounds like the clock is ticking."

Jamie recalled her dream and thought being eaten by wolves would be a horrible way to go, but being shot to death by people who weren't even after her was worse. As Logan tried to reason with the man, Jamie searched for a way out. If he came closer, she could try for the gun. She didn't like her chances against him, but she had the element of surprise on her side.

"Mace!" The other guy was back. "Found it a mile back next to a burnt out campfire."

The bag was clearly empty and Mace's expression was almost incredulous. "You burned the money?" He edged closer to Logan, murder in his eyes.

"It was my idea," Jamie insisted. "We needed to not freeze to death."

Mace looked at her for a moment, as if gauging the truthfulness of her statement, then laughed. "Nice try." He didn't believe her. "It's a good way to throw us off, but I'm not buying it." He took a few more steps until he was within arm's reach. "Tell you what, though," he cocked the gun and lifted it toward Logan's face. "I don't need two of you to show me where it is."

"Please," Logan begged, "I will get you your money, okay."

Jamie calculated her odds of survival if they killed Logan. Once they realized they really had burned the money, she was as good as dead. They wouldn't want any witnesses, and Jamie was a very troublesome loose end. She watched Mace's finger squeeze the trigger and she knew it was time to act.

Her right hand shoved his arm up as her body collided with his. The shot went high and wide, and Mace snarled.

 _That wasn't Mace_ , her brain warned.

"Watch out!" It was the last thing Mace's companion said before his throat was ripped out by the brindled wolf that had leaped from the treeline. The men screamed as two more wolves emerged, and she heard Mace howl in pain as one descended on him. Jamie managed to roll free before the beast could get her as well, and she fled without looking back.

She had no idea how long she ran, but cloud cover and a thick canopy made it hard to see even just a few feet in front of her at a time. Her foot and the crisp air required her to make frequent stops, and finally she couldn't go any further. She slowed to find a place to rest, hoping the wolves hadn't followed her.

Jamie grunted as something ambushed her from behind and she closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the pain of teeth tearing at her flesh. But then she was jerked back, pulled from her feet to land hard on her back, and she saw him. Mace had found her.

He was bloody from the wolf attack but he must have gotten free somehow. She wondered idly if that meant Logan was already dead. Mace reached down with a vicious snarl and yanked her to her feet. She cried in pain as he slammed her against the nearest tree trunk. He was furious, and Jamie used all of her remaining strength to fight him off. It wasn't enough.

The glint of a knife blade made her pause, and Mace sneered. "Where's my money?"

He was holding her at arm's length with his left arm, pinning her to the tree as he brandished the blade near her throat. Reasoning with the man was no longer an option; he was ready to kill her.

But Jamie wasn't ready to die. "We burned it," she growled and lashed out with a well placed kick between his legs. Mace howled and dropped the knife to clutch at his trousers, giving Jamie a perfect shot at his jawline. She swung her fist and connected, sending him sprawling to the ground as she made a break for it.

She didn't get far. Mace reached out for her boot, grabbing her bad leg and sending her into the mud with him. She could feel him clawing at her, using her to crawl closer. But Jamie saw her salvation, and quickly grabbed at the discarded knife just inches away. Her fingers closed around the hilt as Mace scrambled up on all fours. His hands moved to her chest, then her throat as she thrashed beneath him. She kicked up with her good leg and he moved to block, sending them both tumbling over a small embankment. He kept a hold her as they rolled, bouncing off the rocky ground until they came to rest at the bottom. His weight on her was heavy, and Jamie grimaced as his leg connected solidly with her bad foot.

Suddenly he stilled, and Jamie realized that her hand had been trapped between them - the hand that had grabbed the knife. Mace recoiled slightly and Jamie shoved, pushing him off of her as she clamored for freedom. The blade was sunk to the hilt in his chest, and Mace's anger and rage had been replaced by something like fear. He was afraid to die.

Jamie watched his mouth move to form words that never came, his hands floating aimlessly as he shuddered and drew his last breath. Just like that, she'd killed another man.

Revulsion swept through her and she turned her head to be sick. She hadn't eaten anything in a couple of days, so her stomach just lurched over and over again. Finally it was over, and Jamie rinsed the taste of bile from her throat with handfuls of dirty snow.

Exhausted and weak, Jamie tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't cooperate. _You have to get moving_ , she scolded herself. _Get up_.

But it was no use. She crawled away from the dead man on the forest floor and rested her back against a rock. She had no supplies, no food, and no shelter. Even if she could get up, she had no idea where she was anymore. Tonight was the night she died, and even though she was dehydrated, she felt tears slipping down her cheeks.

 _I'm sorry Mitch. I tried. I'm sorry._

Finally her eyes slipped closed, and her last thoughts were of a wry smile and warm brown eyes.

"Jamie." _She knew that voice_. "Jamie, get up." _It was Mitch. He'd found her!_

She wanted to obey, wanted to get up and go to him, but her body simply wouldn't let her. I can't.

"Yes, you can." _Had she said that out loud?_

Her eyes opened slowly, and Jamie almost expected to be lying in a hospital bed somewhere. But when her vision focused she saw only trees and snow and she shivered. A dark form stood just a few feet away, and Jamie very nearly cried at the sight of him.

"Mitch?" she groaned. "You found me." _A little too late_ , she thought. _I'm going to die._

"You're not going to die today," he corrected. "You need to get up."

Jamie wondered why he wasn't trying to help her, why he wasn't by her side cradling her against his warm body. Then she realized the truth.

"You're not real," she breathed.

He chuckled then, in that way she missed so much, and Jamie didn't care that he was just a figment of her mind. Seeing him again, even in a near-death delusion, was like coming home. "Come on, Jamie. You have to get up. You can do it."

Her entire body felt like a misshapen block of lead, and her muscles screamed at the very idea of movement. But she moved anyway.

"That's it," Mitch encouraged. "I can't find you in the middle of the forest, but I can in Caraquet. You have to get to Caraquet."

Slowly, like honey on a winter's day, she managed to pull herself to her feet.

"Keep moving," Mitch told her. "I'm coming."

Jamie closed her eyes against the throbbing pain in her head, and when she opened them again he was gone. Echoes of the vision rang in her ears, and she suddenly felt warm enough to continue on. She knew it was just a dream, that it was just her subconscious telling her not to give up, but it was still good to hear Mitch's voice again. She had to stay alive long enough for him to find her, and he couldn't do that if she died in the middle of nowhere. She had to get to Caraquet.

Her eyes fell on the body lying a few feet away, and she clenched her jaw to keep from gagging again. He'd come in a truck - she remembered the headlights - which meant it was still parked somewhere waiting for them to return. Jamie swallowed thickly and bent to search the body for keys, hoping Mace had them and not one of the other two.

"Jamie?"

It was Logan, far away and frantic, but alive. She snatched the keys from Mace's belt loop and stood. "Logan! I'm here!"

She was cold and hungry and in pain. She was tired, exhausted beyond anything she'd ever experienced before. But she was also alive, and she intended to stay that way.

 _Caraquet_ , she repeated her mantra once more as she set off in the direction of Logan's voice. _I have to get to Caraquet._

* * *

A/N: The title for this chapter comes from a song of the same name by the band, Walls of Jericho.


	18. The Moon and the Star - Perturbations

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 18: The Moon and the Star - Perturbations

 _The mission exacts a heavy toll on the team, and they must learn how to adjust and move on. Mitch's past rears its head as he is reunited with Jamie._

* * *

"Okay, that can't be good." Mitch winced as the alarm siren blared. Suddenly, breaking into General Davies' party didn't feel like such a great idea. It had all sounded so good in the safety of their plane, but after encountering one obstacle after another Mitch was beginning to wonder if there hadn't been a better way to go about all of this.

"We have to go," Jackson turned from where Mitch was drawing blood from the earthquake-causing sloth and bolted for the door. No doubt he was worried about the girls, who had split off moments before in search of the TX gas that would be used by the Noah Objective to kill off the animals. Still, Mitch grumbled as his extra set of hands disappeared and he had to finish with the still-groggy sloth on his own.

"Who sounded the alarm?" Abe asked from his lookout vantage point as his friend raced back down the corridor.

"I don't know," Mitch turned the corner just behind him, "but my money's on Davies."

Jackson turned his head to shout over his shoulder as he ran. "Whoever it was, we need to get the girls and get back to the plane."

They rounded the last corner expecting to see Chloe and Dariela sprinting toward them. They were met instead with a sealed door.

"What the…?

" _Contamination detected_." The automated voice reminded Mitch of the computer from _Spaceballs_ , though it was doubtful that piece of information was helpful right now.

"Contamination?" Abe repeated. "What contamination?"

"The gas," Mitch guessed. "Someone must have released it inside the building."

"We need to find another way around." Jackson turned and pushed past the other two. "Come on."

They took a few wrong turns, but eventually they came to a series of concrete tunnels that ran under the building. No doubt they led to some sort of loading dock; Mitch just hoped they connected to the other set of halls as well.

"Chloe!" It was muffled by distance, but it was clearly Dariela's panicked voice. "Chloe!"

Mitch's heart froze for a moment as they all skidded to a stop. Dariela was standing on their side of an emergency quarantine door with a distraught grimace on her face. Chloe was lying semi-conscious on the other side.

" _Warning_ ," the automated voice intoned again, " _Contamination detected. Air purification initiated._ "

Jackson was pressed against the door, banging against it in a futile attempt to get to Chloe. She was gasping, and her face was flushed. Mitch ran through the list of symptoms of airborne chemical poisoning almost clinically despite the panic rising in him.

" _Air purification complete_." Something clicked and Dariela slammed the now green door lock button. Jackson didn't even wait for the door to open fully. He jumped through and knelt at Chloe's side.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, and Mitch realized she hadn't been gasping earlier; she wasn't breathing at all.

 _No, no, no, no_. He knelt over her to be sure, hovering his cheek over her mouth. "Come on," he growled, pinching her nose and giving her body some much-needed oxygen. Her gaze slid away from Jackson to him, and her mouth moved to form words he couldn't understand. "Straighten out her legs," he directed quickly before giving her another breath. "Come on, Chloe."

Jackson was whispering encouragements as they worked to get her breathing again. Mitch could hear the heartbreak in his voice and felt a pang of sympathy.

"Come on," Mitch muttered again. "Breathe!"

She did. It was a stuttering, choking breath, but it was a breath.

"Thank god," Jackson leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"This way," a faint voice ordered, and they all glanced up sharply. Davies' goons were coming.

Jackson slipped his arms under Chloe. "We gotta get her outta here."

Mitch moved to her legs and lifted her up. It was awkward for both of them, and there was no way they were outrunning a squad of military men carrying her like this.

"Give her to me," Abe offered, holding his arms out. They transferred Chloe's slight frame to him, and he nodded once he had a firm grip.

Dariela led them to an out of the way, unused door near the loading dock. Davies was so sure they were trapped in the lower levels that he hadn't posted guards outside yet. Mitch was grateful for big egos and small miracles.

Once in the vehicle, Jackson cradled Chloe against him as Abe raced back to the plane. "She's breathing weird," he pointed out, and Mitch reached over to check.

"Her heart's racing," he confirmed, "and those breaths are too shallow. How long, Abe?"

"Five minutes!" Abe yanked the wheel hard to the right and they all braced against inertia as they skidded around the turn. Davies hadn't found the plane yet, and the tires squealed as Abe parked them rather forcefully in the vehicle bay.

"Get us in the air," Mitch barked at Dariela as he and Jackson worked to get Chloe out of the car. Jackson lifted her up into his arms easily, like she weighed nothing, and Mitch hoped it was adrenaline and not his mutation giving him the extra strength. He could only deal with one crisis at a time, thank you very much.

Jackson laid her on the exam table in the lab as Mitch hooked up the oxygen mask. Abe hovered worriedly just out of arm's reach, ready to help if Mitch needed him.

"You got this," Jackson whispered to her unconscious form. "You're doing great." He accepted the mask from Mitch and placed it over her mouth and nose. "You're good."

"Trotter's preparing for takeoff," Dariela reported in an efficient clipped tone. "He said someone's been trying to contact us on the plane's secure channel."

"Don't answer," Abe told her. "Secure or not, we can't risk letting Davies know where we are."

Jackson glanced up from Chloe and glared at Dariela. "Leave," he hissed.

"What?"

"Abe, get her out of here," Jackson changed targets.

Abe didn't understand. " _Rafiki_ -"

"Get her out of here, Abe!" Jackson roared.

"Come on," Abe wisely heeded Jackson's warning. "Let's go help Trotter."

Mitch didn't have time to worry about Jackson's sudden bout of rage. Chloe bucked on the table, and the heart monitor he'd connected to her didn't look good. He turned to grab a syringe as Jackson pleaded with her to stay with them.

"What is that?" Jackson asked as Mitch turned back with the needle.

"Adrenaline." Mitch plunged it into her thigh and pressed the solution into her system. She responded immediately. Her eyes opened and she began speaking again, only time she had air to speak.

"What?" Jackson moved the mask as she gasped one word.

" _Jamie_."

It wasn't the word Mitch had been expecting, and for a moment everything around him stopped. "Did you find Jamie?" She'd been repurposing a satellite for that very task, though how she expected to find one woman in the middle of New Brunswick was anyone's guess. "Do you know...do you know where she is?"

She whispered something unintelligible, and Mitch leaned in to hear her better. "Cara...Caraquet."

"Jamie's in Caraquet?" Jackson clarified, and Chloe nodded. Then she tried for another word.

"Cour...Courier."

"Courier?" he ran his fingers down her face in a loving caress. "What's a 'courier' baby? What do you mean 'courier?'" But Chloe didn't answer him. Her monitor began beeping furiously, then just as suddenly it flatlined. Jackson lost it. "Come on, stay with me! You were doing good!"

"Move," Mitch ordered, physically shoving Jackson out of the way so he could hop up on the table. He straddled her prone form and began proper CPR, pressing for a count of thirty before leaning down to give her two breaths. There was no response, so he did it again.

"Come on," he begged. "Come on, Chloe. Don't die." Other than Jamie, Chloe had been the only one on the team who had managed to worm her way beneath his armor. She was closest friend he had - the only who really gave a damn about him after they'd lost Jamie - and waking up in a world without Chloe Tousignant was not something Mitch wanted to experience.

"Dammit, come on!" They couldn't lose Chloe, not now. Not when they were so close to finally having the family back together. "Breathe, dammit!" He counted another thirty compressions, ignoring the crack of her ribs beneath his palms. _One, two, three, four..._

"Mitch."

 _...fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…_

"Mitch!"

 _...twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…_

"Mitch, _stop!_ "

Jackson grabbed at Mitch's arms, but Mitch shoved him off. "No!" He leaned down for two more breaths, knowing as he gave them that it was no use. She was gone.

"Mitch," Jackson was crying now, and his voice trembled as he gently pried the other man's hands away. "Let her go, Mitch."

He crawled off the table in disbelief, staggering back into the counter. Chloe was dead. Jackson was leaning over her body murmuring words he couldn't hear. He was glad for it.

"I'm sorry," Mitch whispered, though he wasn't sure if he was apologizing to Jackson or to Chloe. He supposed it was probably both.

"It's not...it's not your fault," Jackson glanced up. "There was nothing you could do."

 _Nothing I can do_. He'd spoken those words before to families, to patients themselves. They had always sounded trite to his ears, like he was absolving himself rather than offering comfort. They offered him no solace now.

Another muttered apology tumbled from his lips as he raced for his living quarters. He barely made it to the bathroom in time as bile reached the back of his throat. He coughed and gagged, spitting up whatever had been left in his stomach from the night before. The tears came soon after, and as his stomach heaved again he sobbed.

Mitch didn't know how long he had been kneeling on the bathroom floor, but the light creeping through the window told him the sun was beginning to rise. His entire body ached when he tried to stand, and he pressed his palm against his forehead to stave off the worst of his pain. His other hand fumbled for the shower faucet, and he cranked it to the hot side before stripping down.

The water sluiced off of his body as he hunched forward, bracing against the front wall of the shower stall. They weren't large - maybe four feet on a side - but it had good water pressure and never seemed to run out of hot water. As he stood under the spray, the pounding in his head began to recede. There were things that needed to be taken care of, arrangements to be made. Someone would need to call Chloe's sister and notify her. Someone would need to take charge of their mission. Mitch ran through their list of possibles and didn't like his chances. Jackson was halfway to mutantville, so he was a no go. Abe's decision making skills in tense situations were questionable at best, and there was no way in hell Mitch was taking orders from GI Jane. That left one person.

 _Jamie!_

In the chaos of the moment he'd forgotten completely about Chloe's final message - one of them, at least. She'd found Jamie in Caraquet. He shut off the water and stepped onto the dark bath rug. The cool air made him shiver, and he dried off quickly before throwing a robe on.

"Trotter," he keyed the intercom by his door and waited for the pilot's go ahead. "Set a course for Caraquet."

"Roger that, Doctor Morgan. Setting course for Caraquet." There was a pause, then, "Our flight path looks clear, almost nine hours on the dot. Closest airport we can land at is Bathurst. You'll have to drive the forty miles or so into Caraquet proper."

 _Finally_ , Mitch thought, _we're going to get Jamie._

He managed to fall asleep half an hour later with the help of Jameson, planning to get up when they landed in New Brunswick.

The plane lurched and he woke, his body instantly thrumming with energy at the thought of seeing Jamie again. It was better than coffee. But then they began descending rapidly - much more abruptly than Trotter normally handled the plane - and Mitch knew something was wrong. He reached for his glasses carelessly discarded on his bedside table and shoved them onto his nose as he reached for the door.

Abe was in the hall already on his way to the common area. Jackson and Dariela were close, but he reached the intercom first. "Trotter!"

"It's not me!" their pilot cried. "Someone else is flying the plane."

"What the hell does that mean?" Mitch wondered aloud.

"It must be Davies," Abe answered.

"Well, how?"

"He must have hacked our plane." If that wasn't a strike against the technical revolution, Mitch didn't know what was. There was a metallic whir, then a dull thunk, and the four of them shared worried glances.

"That's the landing gear coming down," Abe warned.

"Everyone strap in," Trotter's voice carried over the speaker. "We're landing whether we like it or not."

As landings went, it wasn't the smoothest they'd ever had. Mitch groaned at the jarring impact, grateful for the belt that held him in his seat. Dariela was the first to unbuckle.

"Come on," she told them. "We need to be ready."

"Ready for what?" Mitch unbuckled as well, but didn't stand.

"For when Davies and his men come busting through that door," she shot back hotly. "Feel free to sit here and do nothing; I'm not going out like that."

"I don't wanna go out at all," Mitch grumbled, but followed her anyway. It was hard to balance with the plane taxiing down the runway, but they managed. Dariela peeked out the window as they slowed.

"There nobody out there," Mitch glanced out the window next to the main hatch. "We're almost at the end of the runway."

Dariela came up to them with handfuls of the stuffing from the couch cushions and pushed pieces at each of them. "Stuff this in your ears and cover your eyes when they breach," she directed.

Mitch looked down at the wadded up cotton in his hand. "Why?"

"Flash bangs," she handed the last of it to Abe and went to take up a position. "Two through the door, then they come in shooting. That's what I would do." She stuffed her own cotton into her ears and glanced at Mitch. "Flank the door," she told him and Jackson. "Get behind cover now."

Mitch ran to the corridor with the handgun Abe had given him and angled so just the gun and his right eye were peeking out. Jackson and Abe had each posted up on the other side of the door as Dariela took the main position in front. Whoever was coming through was going to meet her and her rifle first. Mitch pitied them, but only a little.

A shadow crossed in front of the porthole and the door handle slid away loudly. Mitch held his breath and took aim.

"Hit 'em as soon as they come through that door," Dariela ordered as the it opened. "Don't let 'em hit first."

"Hold your fire! Please don't shoot," the woman stepped across the threshold with her hands up. Mitch was tempted to shoot her anyway. She glanced at him and hit him with a look he hadn't seen in twelve years. "That goes double for you."

Mitch tried to think of anything worse than having his ex-girlfriend/stepmother - who was now the Deputy Secretary of Defense - standing in front of him barking orders. He thought maybe the looks the others were shooting him from across the room were pretty bad (though they had no idea he and Allison Shaw had once been an item), but still nothing compared to the sting seeing her had brought.

"Why now, Allison?" Mitch demanded after they'd gathered in the lab and Allison had introduced herself. "What do you want with us? Why'd you bring us here?" He didn't even know where "here" was, but he knew it wasn't Caraquet.

"With Amelia and Eleanor gone, there's fewer of us left," she began. "We need to work together. We have to." Mitch knew that tone. She was appealing to their better natures, but Mitch wasn't buying it and he made sure the others could see the disgust on his face. Allison didn't notice - or chose to ignore it - and went on. "My family owns the largest orchard on the West Coast, and our trees are all dying. I need your help to stop it."

Jackson held up his hand to interject. "You just said you work for the Pentagon, so why would you need our help?"

"Because the government can't know anything about this." _There's the other shoe_. "If Davies finds out that our food source is threatened, he'll use it to leverage additional resources to the Noah Objective." Her reasoning was sound, and it pissed Mitch off. "You're the only ones I can trust."

 _No_ , Mitch shook his head. There was no way in hell she was going to keep them another moment longer. "So," he made sure everyone heard the derision in his tone, "Chloe's dead, Jamie's in some Canadian -"

"Wait, Chloe's dead?" Allison cut him off. "What happened?"

There was a sorrowful silence, and neither Mitch nor Jackson could answer. Abe did it for them. "We disrupted General Davies' event in Vancouver and…" He couldn't seem to say it either.

"I"m sorry," Allison seemed generally upset.

"Can you just back that up for a second?" Jackson's voice was heavy as he spoke. "You knew Chloe?"

Allison nodded. "She and Eleanor were the only ones who knew that I was behind your team. I've been secretly working against Davies, trying to find an alternative to the Noah Objective."

"Then let us go find that alternative," Jackson reasoned, "because that's what Chloe wanted."

"Please," Allison begged. Mitch thought she almost sounded sincere. "I need you to come with me to my orchard."

Mitch had had enough of her speeches. "We're not going anywhere with you. You can keep your stupid plane," his hands shook as he set the handgun he was holding on the table. No need to do something stupid. "We'll find another way to get to Jamie and find a cure."

Mitch was surprised when Dariela of all people stepped into his corner. "What he said."

"Did Chloe ever mention 'The Courier?'" There it was. Allison had always been a master manipulator, even back then. He supposed he should have seen a political career coming; she was good at getting her way one way or another. Her appeals hadn't worked, so now she was leveraging information.

"Yeah, she did," Jackson took the bait. "What the hell do you know?"

"You save my family's orchard and this plane is yours, no strings attached. And I'll tell you everything."

Mitch's fists clenched as the anger and rage of her betrayal twelve years ago bubbled up to the surface. He turned with a sneer on his face, and Dariela stepped back out of his way as he closed the distance between him and Allison in three long strides.

"I don't give a damn about your family's orchard! I don't even care a whole lot about the world right now." He was seething now, and Allison's eyes were wide under the force of his tirade. "There's only one person I care about, and we're going to get her." Then, to show he could be just as magnanimous as she could, he added, "Once Jamie is safe and on this plane, I'll go wherever you want."

"Eleanor said you were persistent," she stared at him with a look he couldn't decipher, like she was a kid being denied a piece of candy before dinner. It unsettled him and he had to force himself not to take a step back. "Fine," she relented. "We'll go get Miss Campbell first, but then we're going to California."

With the time change and their little detour, it was almost twilight when they landed in Bathurst, Canada. Mitch had stayed as far from Allison as he could for the duration of the trip, instead spending his time devouring every map of the forty miles between their landing strip and the small town of Caraquet. He planned the shortest route and double checked it. He even ran it by Dariela, who agreed it was the best way to go.

"You think that's necessary?" Allison glared at the automatic rifle that Dariela stowed safely as they piled into the Hummer upon landing. Mitch was behind the wheel, having settled the discussion of who was driving before Abe could even volunteer.

"Lady, you ain't seen what we've seen," Dariela double checked her rounds and slammed the door. Abe was in front of her riding shotgun, leaving Jackson to climb in behind Mitch. None of them liked leaving Allison alone with the plane, but Mitch liked bringing her along even less. She needed them - she'd said as much herself - so they were relatively confident she wouldn't strand them in the middle of Canada.

"How long will it take to get there?" Abe asked as Mitch reversed down the ramp. Once on level ground, he shifted into drive and floored it. The others braced against the frame as they went careening down the road.

Mitch's eyes didn't leave the road as he cracked a small smile. "Not long."

Mitch ate up the forty miles in less than half an hour, and as they neared Caraquet they all saw the plumes of smoke rising against the backdrop of fires dotting the landscape. For half a heartbeat Mitch feared they were too late, but then Jackson tapped him on the shoulder and gestured to a small area off to the left. There were lights, and where there were lights there were people.

"Where the hell is everyone?" Abe and Dariela had jumped out to open the fence, the latter covering the former as he held the chain link back enough for Mitch to ease the Hummer through. Once the fence was secured Mitch took them into what must have once been a very quaint little town. The weather beaten sign gave the population at just over 4,000, but Mitch would bet money there were fewer now. All around them the buildings showed signs of people, but there was no one in sight.

"Maybe they're all sleeping?" Abe offered unhelpfully.

"Over there," Dariela leaned forward and pointed over Mitch's shoulder to a structure in the center of town. Two men stood outside, and their posture was one of guard rather than lookout. "That's odd."

"Let's go say hi," Mitch parked rather close to the building, and the two men bristled and moved forward to challenge them. They were met rather quickly with Dariela and her rifle.

"Nice and easy, boys. Hands." They complied. "Good."

"We're looking for someone," Mitch took control of the situation quickly. "A young woman, about so tall," he held his hand palm down around his shoulder height, "red hair. She may have come in a few days ago. Seen her?"

The two men said nothing, but a look passed between them that Mitch didn't miss. He was about to switch from inquiring visitor to demanding stranger, but a sound reverberated from within the building, as though a large number of people all spoke at once. Without another word he pushed past the men and shoved the double doors in.

It was a town gathering, and as he entered a group of people at the front of the congregation looked up sharply. But Mitch wasn't paying attention to them. His eyes had been immediately drawn to the woman standing just off the side, her red hair disheveled and her face marred by a bruises and scrapes. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Oh my God," she breathed, and Jamie took a step toward him. Or at least she tried to. The man behind her had an iron grip on her arm, keeping her firmly in place.

"You're gonna want to let her go," Mitch's voice was deadly calm as Dariela came up beside him with her rifle to bear. "I know for a fact this woman here loves to shoot things."

But Jamie didn't wait for her captor to comply. With a fierce yank she was free and running toward them. Mitch met her halfway as she slammed against him solid and firm.

"You're here," she mumbled into his shoulder. "You're here." Her fingers were clutching at his back greedily, as though she was afraid he would slip away if she loosened her grip even a little.

"I'm here," he reassured her, running his hands over her shoulders and down her back before crushing her against him. "I'm here." As much as he wanted to hold her forever, he needed to make sure she was really okay. He gently pushed her back and let his eyes rake over her body. She was thin - too thin - but it wasn't anything a few good meals couldn't fix. What worried him more was the pain in her eyes, the hardness that hadn't been present before the plane crash. Whatever she'd been through out there had affected her deeply.

"What took you so long?" she seemed to be just as busy soaking in the sight of him.

Finally he felt the vice around his heart give way, and he let out a bark of laughter as he gathered her up once more. "Traffic," he joked, earning him a half-hearted chuckle. "You ready to go? I didn't mean to interrupt...whatever this was."

"No," Jamie pushed back and turned to the town's leader with a fierce fury he recognized all too well. There was an injustice here, and she had to correct it. "This is wrong," she spoke to the woman directly now. "What you're doing isn't survival, it's murder."

"What's going on?" Mitch asked.

"They're feeding people to the animals," Jamie never took her eyes off the town council, staring them down with a reproachful glare as she spoke.

"They're _what?_ " Dariela spoke for the first time since her entrance. Her rifle was still held up and ready, but luckily the townsfolk were giving her plenty of space.

"It's true," a man from the crowd stepped forward. He had a slight build and piercing eyes that held the same world-weary look that Jamie's did. When he came to a stop beside her, Mitch realized they knew each other. The other man simply nodded once at the newcomers before turning slightly toward Jamie. "Mitch?"

"Yeah," Jamie looked past her new friend to him and smiled. "Told you he'd come."

Hearing her absolute faith in him stoked the fire he'd been stifling for months. He reached for her, and she came. Her hand fit neatly in his, and he let his thumb caress the back of her hand lovingly. "Let's get out of here."

"You can't leave," the woman near the front of the room spoke for the first time, her voice solid and sure. "The vote has already been cast."

Dariela took a step inside toward Mitch and Jamie. "You telling me you sickos actually vote to toss someone out there?"

"Not just someone," Jamie glared at the gathered crowd, and Mitch's hand tightened instinctively.

"You?" he growled.

Jamie nodded. "And Maddie," she gestured at a young girl of maybe seventeen with brown curls and a tear-streaked face.

"That's it," Mitch tugged Jamie back with him toward the door. "Dariela?"

The woman adjusted her hold of the rifle as she stepped up. Jamie resisted slightly until Maddie pulled free of her captor and ran to them. Mitch didn't care if they took half the damn town so long as Jamie got on the plane. The man who had befriended Jamie joined them soon after, and the five of them backed out of the building with Dariela bringing up the rear.

"Jamie!" Jackson and Abe rushed forward to embrace their long-lost friend, and Mitch finally noticed the limp. He didn't get a chance to ask her about it before the two men swept her up in a pair of bear hugs. It was the first time he'd seen her really smile and it was such a beautiful sight he wasn't even annoyed that someone else had put it on her face.

"We need to go," Dariela pointed out as she remained locked steady on the closed doors of the town hall meeting as if she expected the townsfolk to come bursting out any moment.

"No," Jamie was immediately back to righteous fury. "No, we can't leave."

"Jamie - " Jackson didn't understand, "What's going on?"

But Jamie just turned to Mitch with those wide, pleading eyes. "We can't just leave things like this. They're killing people, Mitch."

Mitch glanced heavenward and wondered if he ever really had a chance. "Okay," he agreed, "but what do you want us to do? We can't really arrest anyone, and they won't all fit on the plane."

"The plane?"

"Oh, yeah," he raised one shoulder off-handedly. "We have a plane."

Jamie looked wary; Mitch didn't blame her. The last plane she was on broke apart four miles in the air. "Okay," she said finally. "But the moment we leave, they're just going to vote to throw someone else to the wolves."

"We can tell the Mounties," Dariela offered. "I'm sure if they knew what was going on up here, they'd send a contingent to stop it."

"Meanwhile someone dies," Jamie shook her head sharply. "We need to do something now."

"Okay, but what?" Mitch asked.

"We could take the town leaders with us," Jamie's friend finally spoke up, and Mitch whirled on him.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Logan," he offered his hand but Mitch didn't take it.

"Charmed," he drawled. "And no, junior, we can't. There's not enough room in our Hummer for them. I'm not entirely sure there's enough room for you."

"Mitch!" Jamie frowned at him. "We're not leaving anyone behind."

"We don't have to." It was Maddie who spoke this time. The group turned to the young woman expectantly. "I mean, the feeding doesn't happen until after sunrise," she said. "We can tell the Mounties and have them here before the feeding begins."

Mitch glanced at Jamie to see what she thought of that plan. She wasn't happy about it, but it seemed to be the best solution. He caught her eye and asked the question without saying a word.

"Fine," she agreed. "But we go now." She spun around quickly, ready to march to the still-running Hummer, but just as suddenly she faltered and Mitch barely managed to catch her before she fell. Her face was contorted in pain and she leaned heavily against him as she lifted her right foot off the ground.

"Maddie and I can get the Mounties," Logan suggested. "You need to get that foot taken care of. I'm sure there's a working car around here somewhere."

"I have the keys to my mom's truck," Maddie said. "They're in my bag." She glanced back over the compound at a smaller building that obviously housed the residents of Caraquet.

Jackson was obviously as tired as Mitch was of standing around. "Alright, Dariela, you take Logan and Maddie and get the Mounties. We'll take Jamie back to the plane and meet you there when you're done."

Dariela didn't look too happy about taking orders from Jackson, but she nodded anyway. "Let's go."

Mitch was still busy keeping Jamie upright, and when she finally looked up from her grimace of pain he took a deep breath. "What happened?"

"Tell you in the car?" she whimpered, and tried again to take a step toward the vehicle. But her foot, whatever was wrong with it, simply wouldn't hold her any longer. Mitch slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her shoulders before lifting her up. He expected a crack about heroism or even a slap on the shoulder for his presumptuousness, but neither came. He didn't know if it was the pain or simply the enormity of the last week's ordeal, but Jamie was silent as he carried her to the Hummer and set her in the backseat.

Jackson and Abe got in the front as Dariela disappeared around a corner with Maddie and Logan. Jamie scooted back enough for Mitch to get in, but the moment he was seated she was back against his side. He really wanted to take a look at her foot, but the backseat of a bouncing vehicle was likely not the best place for an examination. Instead he slipped an arm around her shoulders and let her rest against him as she told them about her journey.

It was almost impossible to believe. By the time they reached the plane Mitch was very nearly in tears. When they parked in the vehicle bay he was the first one out, ready to pull her to the lab and examine every inch of her. She supported her weight on her good foot as she stepped out of the Hummer, but Mitch's hand was around her arm anyway.

"I can't wait for a proper shower," she sighed. "Where's Chloe? I may need to borrow some clothes."

There was a pause, and Mitch lifted his eyes to the other two and asked silently who was going to break the news. Jackson's face was blank, but Mitch had seen enough masked agony to recognize it. Abe seemed to hesitate as well, and Mitch understood his pointed stare: Mitch was the best person for the job.

"Jamie," he began.

"What?" She finally sensed something was wrong, and it didn't take her long after to realize what they weren't saying. Her hand flew to her mouth and she swayed as tears welled in her eyes. Mitch reached out to steady her as well as offer some comfort. "How?"

"I'll tell you the story while I check you out," Mitch gestured for the door. "The lab's this way."

But she didn't budge. "Can we...I'd rather not be examined like a lab rat," she said finally. The others quietly excused themselves from the room as Mitch's face softened.

"Of course," he rubbed her back. "We can go to my room. I have a shower you can use after I make sure you're alright."

She followed slowly, and Mitch resisted the urge to scoop her up again. She seemed determined to do it by herself, so he let her. He did support most of her weight up the stairs, and when he directed her to his open door she slipped inside and sunk down on the bed gratefully.

Mitch slid the door closed behind him and crouched on the floor in front of her. Their eyes locked for a moment, letting all of the heartache and pain of the last week wash away. Mitch shifted to his knees and raised a hand to her cheek, wiping away a tear that had slipped from her eye. Wordlessly she leaned forward and he embraced her gently, letting her head fall to his shoulder as she shuddered in his arms.

Had it been only a week since he'd heard her voice? It seemed like a lifetime since that phone call. They'd both been through so much in such a short time, but finally she was back where she belonged - by his side. He shoved all of the current worries and problems aside and leveled his focus on her and her alone.

"I need to look at you," he murmured after a few moments. He felt her nod against his shoulder and she sat up to wipe her eyes as he carefully unlaced her boots. They worked as a team, and soon enough she was left in loose pants, socks and a t-shirt. Her arms were covered in bruises in various stages of healing, and he seethed at the darkening one on her neck from a man named Mace.

"Any head injuries or large cuts?" He tried to sound clinical, but he probably missed. Still, he felt a little better when she shook her head.

"Just the foot," she indicated her socked feet. "Logan did a good job of cleaning it."

Mitch frowned at the friendly tone of her voice but said nothing. He reached for her right foot, easing the sock from it slowly to keep from hurting her. It didn't really help.

Someone had already wrapped it up, though they'd done a rather poor job of it. Jamie had said something about the town doctor being a urologist, but at least he'd had the sense to keep it covered. Jamie leaned back on her hands as he carefully unwound the bandage. The space where her toe should have been was red and raw, and Mitch couldn't stifle the hiss of sympathetic pain that escaped him.

"Jesus, Jamie," he breathed. "You walked on this?"

"Had to," she shot back. "I wasn't exactly anywhere I could just stay put and rest."

"I'm going to need some stuff from the lab," he told her. "Why don't you lie down while I go get it?"

"If I lie down, I'm gonna pass out," she gave him a humorless smile.

"Okay," he stood and walked to the door, hesitating only a moment at the threshold.

"Go on," she pushed. "I'll still be here when you get back."

It was his turn to smile, trying to convey reassurance and comfort through the gesture. Abe and Jackson were waiting in the lab when he arrived, but he mostly ignored them as he gathered everything he needed.

"How is she?" Abe asked.

"Hurt," Mitch responded curtly. "And tired. I need to get her patched up and showered before she passes out."

"Dariela called," Jackson spoke up. "She said they spoke to the Mounties. Maddie went with them back to Caraquet and they're on their way back."

"They?" Mitch looked up.

"Her and Logan," Jackson shrugged. "Said Jamie said something about taking him someplace?"

Mitch didn't have time to grumble about that; as long as the boy stayed out of his way, he could tag along until they reached something resembling civilization. Maybe he could get lucky and kick both Allison and Logan off the plane in California.

"Take care of her," Abe called after him as he slipped out of the lab with his bag of supplies. He waved once, as if to say _got it handled and don't need to be told that, thanks._

Jamie was indeed waiting when he returned, still sitting on the bed where he'd left her. She was inspecting her right foot closely, and as he walked in Mitch saw the sadness on her face.

"Okay," he sat down on the edge and patted his lap. She adjusted her position on the bed and laid her legs across the towel he placed on his. "I've got a local anesthetic," he told her. "But it's gonna hurt a little at first."

"Worse than having my toe chopped off with an axe?" she asked smartly.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "Here we go."

She jumped a little when the needle slid into her skin, but she didn't cry out. He gave the numbing agent some time to work and reached for his phone. Jamie watched his movements as he tapped a few buttons then held it up to his ear.

It rang four times before someone picked up. "Hello?" She sounded groggy, like he'd woken her, but he knew she wouldn't mind.

Mitch couldn't help the ear-to-ear grin that split his face. "Hey, it's me," he said, purposefully ignoring Jamie's rather insistent stare. "I've got someone here for you." He held the phone out to Jamie, and as she took with unsure fingers he just smiled and nodded.

He watched Jamie face as she slowly lifted the phone to her ear. "Hello?" The effect was immediate, and her hand reached out to grip his tightly as she began crying again. This time, though, they were happy tears. "Aunt Fran? Oh my god."

Mitch could hear Fran's squeal of delighted surprise and winced in sympathy for Jamie's eardrums. Neither woman seemed to mind, and as Jamie spluttered through a tearful conversation with her aunt he turned his attention back to her foot. He tested its sensation with the syringe and glanced up at her in question. When she shook her head negative he got to work, cutting away the sharp edges of the wound and any infected tissue. The bone of her metatarsal wasn't damaged, and he managed to get enough skin to work with that he could stitch the wound closed without cutting into healthy tissue. Jamie watched the entire time, her eyes never wavering as she reassured her aunt that she was okay and that she would come home just as soon as possible.

She pressed the red button and set the phone on the nightstand as Mitch continued to work. "Thank you," she said after a moment, and Mitch just hummed in response. "She said you stayed with them for a while?"

"I did," he nodded. "After the crash, after you...died," he forced the word past his lips, "things were different. Jackson and Chloe threw themselves into the work, but I couldn't. I drove out to Louisiana to tell your family what had happened, and somehow I ended up staying a while."

Jamie laughed then, her eyes still shining with tears. "Yeah, Aunt Fran can be persuasive."

"I called her after you called me last week to let her know…"

"That I wasn't dead?" Jamie finished.

"Right," he concentrated on the stitches he was sewing into her foot, but he could feel the intensity of her stare on him. "Anyway, I told her I'd call her when we found you, I just figured you probably wanted to talk to her, too."

"Yeah," Jamie sniffed wetly. "She said to tell you hello. And thank you." Mitch didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing. "Mitch?" Her tone changed, and he knew what was coming next. "Chloe?"

As he finished up he told her about Chloe, about how they had stolen the gas but Davies men had found them before they could get out. When he reached the part about Dariela and the quarantine button he hesitated.

"I know it's been almost six months, but I can still see when you're not telling me something."

He gave a chuckle at that, but sobered up as he continued the story. "Dariela sealed the door," he said. "Trapped the gas inside. Well, the gas...and Chloe."

"So this Dariela killed my friend?"

It was weird, the visceral response to defend Dariela, but he bit down on it and focused on Jamie. She was angry, upset, confused - trying to catch up on seven months of what amounted to hell for the rest of them was a lot. She needed time.

"Alright," he said finally, giving her a shot of antibiotic just in case. "I think that's it. It's gonna scar, but you'll keep the foot." The towel was a bloody mess, but he'd folded it enough times to keep it from soaking through to his pants. He gathered it up and tossed it into a bag before snapping his gloves off. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Jamie shook her head and eased her foot back to the floor. She had to grip the dresser to stand, and when she did she winced. "It's hard to walk," she shuffled a bit awkwardly,"but I'll get used to it I suppose." She straightened up and looked toward his bathroom longingly. "I'd like to shower properly. The one at the community center was too short and too cold."

"Yeah," Mitch rocked back on his heels to keep from reaching for her again. "I used a waterproof bandage so you're good to go. I'll just grab you something to change into." He reached for his top dresser but stopped just as he gripped the handle. "Would you like something of Chloe's? Might fit better."

Her gaze had followed his hands, and he saw something in her eyes that gave him hope - desire. "No," she licked her lips and nodded for him to continue. "Whatever you have is fine."

She ended up with a pair of boxers and a UCLA Berkeley shirt that would likely spend a lot of time in his future fantasies. She thanked him and slipped into the bathroom, leaving him to tidy up the mess.

"Before you ask," Mitch cut off Jackson mid-breath as he dumped his impromptu med kit onto the exam table, "she's fine. She needs a shower, a hot meal, and plenty of sleep."

"I could definitely go for all three of those right now," a voice said from behind, and Mitch turned to find Logan stepping through the door with Dariela just behind. "Nice plane."

"Thanks," Mitch drawled. "What's he doing here?"

"Getting a ride," Logan reminded him. "Jamie said you could take me anywhere."

Witty rejoinders about exactly where he could go were interrupted by Allison's sudden arrival. He didn't know where she'd been, but thankfully he hadn't had to introduce her to Jamie just yet. That was a conversation he was not looking forward to, and he wanted to do it in private away from prying ears.

"Is everyone on board?" she asked curtly. "Can we go now?"

"Yes, Allison," Mitch leaned back against the countertop and crossed his arms over his chest. "We can go now."

"Great," she smiled flatly and spun on her heel, "I'll tell Trotter to take off immediately."

"I'll find something to cook," Abe offered. "We're probably all hungry."

With dinner preparations underway and the plane en route to Allison's home, Mitch found himself with nothing to occupy his thoughts. He hated the needy, clingy urge he had to sit outside the bathroom door and wait for Jamie to be done, but it wouldn't subside. Finally he gave in and settled onto his bed with a book he'd borrowed from Dalton.

Two chapters later he came up for air with something niggling at the back of his brain. He forced himself to focus, to suss out the problem and resolve it, but there was nothing out of place. The plane engines hummed steadily as they flew over the continent, the smell of Abe's cooking wafted through the vents, the soft susurrus of the shower -

The shower was still running. How long had she been in there? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Longer?

He stood and rapped his knuckle softly on the door. "Jamie?" No answer. "Jamie, are you alright?" His eyes fell toward the floor and he frowned at the white wisps floating beneath the frame. He laid his palm flat and his frown deepened at the heat under it. "Jamie, I'm coming in."

He slid the door back and coughed at the steam that billowed out. His glasses fogged almost instantly, so he slipped them off his face and set them on the small vanity. Mitch called her name again, raising it to be heard over the sound of the shower, but she still didn't answer. He knew he was bound to be slapped at any moment, but he had to know - had to make sure she was alright.

He found her huddled on the shower floor, pushed back into the corner with her head down and her knees tucked to her chest. She was crying. _No_ , he corrected, _she's sobbing._

"Jamie." His heart broke at the sight and he stepped into the hot spray clothes and all, hissing at the near-scalding temperature of the water. "You're alright," he knelt down and began grasping gently at her, coaxing her to his body. "You're safe, Jamie. I've got you." He kissed her wet hair, his arms tightening around her as she began crying in earnest. The rational side of his brain knew she needed this, needed to get it out in the open and deal with it. Still, he hated seeing her like this.

"You're wet," she mumbled into his soaked shirt.

Mitch shrugged. "I'll dry." He kissed her again, letting his lips linger on her brow as his hands framed her face. "Talk to me."

"C-c-cold," she stuttered.

"You've got the shower as hot as it'll go," he told her. "Any hotter and you'll boil."

"I can't get warm," she shivered and tucked herself further into his arms.

"Abe's making dinner," he said. "Let's get you dry and into something warm. After you eat, we'll pile as many blankets on your bed as you need."

She let him help her up, waiting patiently as he reached back to shut the water off. He was dripping from head to toe, and his socks squished inside his shoes as he walked her out into the bathroom proper and draped a towel around her. He left her to change, leaving the door open just a crack as he shucked his soggy jeans, shirt, socks, and shoes into a pile in the corner.

"Do I have a bed?" Her question caught him off guard, and he stumbled into the wall as he fought to pull dry jeans over his damp skin.

"Uh…" It was a good question. Chloe had taken the master, but she obviously didn't need it anymore. Dariela had indeed claimed the room next to his, leaving no space for any extra residents on the plane. Unless she bunked on one of the couches in the lounge, Jamie would have to take Chloe's room. _There's another option_ , his brain reminded him, but he silenced it. She needed time and space to heal properly; his own base desires would have to wait.

"I mean," she came out of the bathroom in his boxers and t-shirt, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up, "can't I just stay in here?"

"Yes, yeah," he stammered and tried not to picture her in his bed. _So much for waiting_. "I can just...there's a cot down in the lab I can…"

"Mitch," she frowned. "Why are you being weird...er?" She stepped forward and took the robe out of his hands. He watched in rapt fascination as she slipped it on over her shoulders. "Shouldn't you put a shirt on?"

"Huh?" He glanced down and realized he'd only gotten as far as buttoning his fly. Thank god for small favors, at least. "Right, yeah." He found another shirt in his drawer and pulled it on. He then grabbed two pairs of socks and tossed one at her. "Careful with the bandage. Here let me -"

"I walked thirty kilometers on it," she told him sternly. "I think I can manage a sock without help."

"Okay," he changed direction and found his slippers. "Not sure what to do about shoes. These will work for now. We'll get you stocked up in California."

"California?" she looked up from her foot. "Why are we going to California?"

Realizing that he was about to open up an entire buffet of worms, Mitch took a deep breath. "Because we're on our way to help my ex-stepmother's family's orchard."

She blinked a few times before responding. "Okay," she drew out the syllables, "why?"

"Because this is her plane," Mitch explained. "And she's the only ally we have left in our fight against Davies."

"You know what?" Jamie stood and tied the robe around her waist. "You and the boys can explain it all over dinner."

Dinner was a very awkward affair. Jamie sandwiched herself between Mitch and Logan, far from Dariela and Abe at the other end of the table. Allison had posted up at the head of the table on Mitch's left, and from his vantage point across the table he could see the sour expression on Jackson's face at seeing someone else in Chloe's seat.

They ate as they listened to Allison recount the troubles her family's orchard were having. Mitch was intrigued by the glass in the soil, but most of his attention was on the woman next to him. She was picking at her plate absently, running her fork through the pasta dish Abe had crafted. It wasn't a five star meal, but it was better than anything Mitch or Jackson could make.

"Thank you for making dinner, Abe," Jackson tried to lighten the mood and Dariela echoed him, offering a small toast with her glass of water. Jamie stiffened in her seat, and Mitch had to lean back as she abruptly pushed back from the table and stood.

"Excuse me." She limped out of the room quickly, making a beeline for the living quarters. Mitch stood up as well and followed her, trying his best to ignore the stares that followed him. He found her in his room trying to pull the blankets on the bed enough to slip in. Silently he helped her, gathering the comforter up so she could lie down before tucking it around her.

"Okay?" he asked softly. "Need another?" She shook her head and closed her eyes, though he knew she wasn't really trying to sleep. It was more like she was trying to block everything out, and he suddenly felt very helpless. "You want me to go?" He was new to this whole "being clingy" thing, and he didn't much like it. Still, the thought of leaving her alone didn't sit well with him.

"No," she murmured. "You can stay." Then, almost so quietly he couldn't hear, she added, "Please."

He stood and pushed his shoes off, kicking them into the same corner as his sopping wet clothes. Those would need to go in the dryer tomorrow. His dry jeans were next, and he laid those over the back of his chair before climbing into bed. She pushed the blanket back and he took the hint, sliding under it to lie flush against her. She turned into him, letting him pull her almost halfway on top of him as he settled against the pillows. Her left leg was over his and her right foot was tucked against his calf to keep it from moving too much as they slept.

A feeling of completeness settled over Mitch, and he inhaled deeply as she began to drift off. He wanted to stay awake, to watch her like a hawk and reassure himself that she was really here. But he could feel his own exhaustion beginning to tug on him.

"Jamie?" he whispered, waiting for her answering hum before continuing. "I love you."

She was too far gone to respond, but he felt her fingers curl ever so slightly into his chest in answer. It wouldn't be easy - she'd been through an extremely hellish nightmare this last week - but she was strong, and she could get through it.

They woke to Trotter's announcement that they were landing in California. Jamie rolled herself off of his body with a groan and tried to go back to sleep, but the plane began to shake lightly from turbulence and she bolted awake instantly.

"It's alright," he told her. "That happens sometimes when we descend quickly."

She pushed her hair back from her face and swung her legs over the side to rest on the floor. "Do you remember much about…"

"The crash?" he finished for her. "Not really. I remember you," he slid his fingers lightly down her back in a caress, "and something about weird migration patterns. After that? Nothing. Not until I woke up on the hospital boat."

Jamie looked at him for a moment, as though she'd just realized he'd probably been injured, too. "Were you hurt badly?"

"Broken ribs, concussion, torn ligaments...I got lucky." He remembered the harrowing scene of the bodies laid out wall to wall in the ship's infirmary. "Forty seven people died."

"Forty seven?" she repeated.

"Well," he corrected, rising to sit next to her, "forty six." He leaned over to kiss her head. "When I heard your voice over the phone...Jamie, I…"

"I know," she turned in and let her head fall forward against his jaw. "I wasn't sure you had survived until the moment you answered the phone." The plane jerked as they hit the runway, and Jamie's fingers tightened into fists on her knees. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that again," she admitted. "I can't believe you live on a plane now."

"It'll take time, Jamie," he stood and offered a hand to help her up. She didn't take it. "In a few days, once your body is rested, your mind is going to start trying to process everything."

"You a shrink now?" Her tone was biting and Mitch reminded himself not to take offense.

"No," he walked away and grabbed his discarded jeans. "I'm just letting you know -"

"Mitch?" Allison's voice floated through the closed door. "Be ready to go in five."

Jamie raised her eyebrows in question, and Mitch sighed. "Listen, there's something I have to tell you about Allison before -"

"Jamie?" It was Logan this time, and Mitch bit down on the urge to yell at him to go away. Jamie stood and shuffled to the door, sliding it back as Mitch fastened his jeans. Logan's eyes flew past Jamie to the motion, and Mitch saw a flicker of something pass over the younger man's face. Was it anger? Jealousy? Whatever it was he hid it quickly, but not before Mitch had taken note.

"Logan," Jamie prompted, and her friend cleared his throat as he redirected his attention.

"Uh, I just wanted to see if you were going with everyone or if you wanted to stay here on the plane."

"Oh, I'm going," she told him. "But you can stay here if you want. Right, Mitch?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he shrugged. "I don't think anyone would mind if you stayed behind." _In fact, I'd prefer it._

"Okay, then I'll go with you," Logan said. "You gonna change or go in that?" He gestured to the oversized robe she was currently wearing, and Jamie looked down.

"Right," she began to untie it. "I guess I should raid Chloe's closet for something to wear. Be right back," she shot over her shoulder at Mitch before pushing past Logan toward the master. The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Logan cleared his throat and excused himself. Mitch watched him go, wondering for the first time exactly what had happened in the woods of New Brunswick.

They had to take both vehicles to fit all of them, and Mitch ended up driving the second car since Abe, Dariela and Jackson had piled into the Hummer. Allison directed them to her family's land, and Mitch had to turn around twice after making a wrong turn because he had been trying to hear the quiet conversation going on in the back of his vehicle. Jamie and Logan had leaned in toward each other, and every now and then he heard her chuckle at something he said. Something ugly was growing in his chest, and Mitch did his best to shove it back down and focus on the mission at hand.

It was almost midnight when they pulled up outside Allison's family home. There were half a dozen cars parked outside, and the bright red and blues from the ambulance bounced off the siding. Allison jumped out before Mitch had completely stopped, sprinting as fast as her heels would allow toward the house.

Mitch motioned for the others to stay outside as he stepped through the open front door. He could tell immediately something bad had happened, and a small pang of guilt surged through him. Could they have prevented it if they'd been here earlier? If they hadn't gone for Jamie first?

It didn't matter, he decided. Whatever else happened, getting Jamie back was the most important thing. He wasn't sure she would see it that way, but maybe with everything else occupying her thoughts, she might not even think about it.

Allison was crying, though she was doing so silently as she comforted an older woman. Mitch caught her eye and nodded when she lifted her chin in the direction of the stairs. He could see the same cold accusation in her eyes, but he decided there would be time to deal with that later. He turned toward the rest of his team on the porch and pitched his voice low.

"I need samples of the soil from a few different places, preferably at least five hundred yards apart" he told them. "There's a kit in the trunk," he tossed Jamie the keys. "Jackson?" He indicated for his friend to follow, and the two men crept up the stairs slowly as the others set to their task. There was water on the floor trailing from the hall bathroom toward the master, and the men followed it.

"What the hell?" Jackson breathed.

A man was lying in the middle of the floor surrounded by blood. Some of it had even splattered on the vanity mirror, but there were no wounds Mitch could see. There was an odd sheen to the blood, and as Mitch got closer he saw the shards of glass spread throughout.

"What the hell doesn't quite cover it," Mitch said. "I need something to collect samples with. Baggies are ok, small bottles are better." As Jackson turned to fetch the required items, Mitch's eyes were drawn to the body. He leaned in to get a better look and something moved beneath the skin of his throat. "Whoa!" He reeled back and called for Jackson. "Scratch that, get back in here."

The thing moved again, and both of them watched in horrified fascination as a snake emerged from the man's mouth. It was covered in blood and shedding the same glass-like substance found in the blood. Mitch could only stare at the phenomenon, but Jackson at least seemed to know what to do.

"Here," he had stripped one of the pillows and tossed the case at Mitch. "Hold it open." With its attention on Mitch, Jackson's hand shot forward and gripped the snake at the base of its skull. It thrashed a few times, but Jackson quickly got a hold of its tail and lowered it into the open pillowcase. Mitch tied it closed and handed it off to Jackson with an incredulous expression.

"Well, I think I know what's causing the glass in the soil."

Back on the plane, Allison was more subdued as they all gathered in the lab. The dead man had been her cousin, Bill, and she'd spent most of the time at his house consoling his wife. Mitch was explaining his theory of the snake's shed poisoning the trees as the others huddled around the center table. The snake was safely caged in a tank on the table, and judging from its tightly coiled position it wasn't terribly happy about it.

"Based on the amount of glass we saw in the orchard, there must be thousands of snakes," Abe said.

Allison glanced at the map of the area Mitch had called upon his monitor. "So where are they all hiding?"

"Snakes came through the toilet, right?" Jackson looked at Mitch for confirmation, but it was Allison who answered.

"I certainly looks like it."

"I think I have an idea," he reached over to tap the screen, focusing on a specific area. "This is aquifer that runs under the property," he highlighted the water. "It supplies water to all the farms in the county." He traced the path of the water with his finger. "My thought is that the snakes are shedding their toxic glass directly into your farm's water supply."

"What about the drinking water?" Mitch asked.

"County draws it directly from the river," Allison answered, "so at least we don't have to worry about contamination."

"But we do," Jackson zoomed out and moved the map up. "Your aquifer feeds into tons of other public water sources for hundreds of miles. Your farm is only the beginning."

Jamie entered the conversation in that abrupt manner Mitch had missed so much. "So these snakes are going to poison the entire Pacific Northwest?"

Jackson nodded solemnly. "Countless innocent people are gonna be drinking poison directly from their kitchen sinks unless we do something."

"So how do we stop it?" Allison sounded a bit more like her no-nonsense, bossy self, though Mitch could tell she was barely covering her anger. There would be a reckoning soon and he was not looking forward to it.

"Poison them," Mitch said simply. "Before they poison us."

Logan pushed away from the table he'd been leaning on an uncrossed his arms. "Can you do that?"

"If anyone can, it's Mitch," Jamie shot him a confident smile and turned toward the exit. "I'm gonna go back to bed. Wake me if you need me." The others all shuffled out after her except Allison. Mitch tried to ignore her as he gathered everything he'd need, but her stare was worse than Superman's heat vision.

"What?" he asked finally.

"So that's the woman who was more important than saving the world?" She sounded almost catty, and Mitch forced himself not to rise to the bait.

"I understand you're hurting because of your cousin's death," he said evenly, "and I'm sorry. But your grief is no excuse -"

"My cousin would be alive if we hadn't made that little detour!" she shouted.

"You don't know that," Mitch shook his head. "How long has this been going on, Allison? Weeks? Months? And no one's seen a snake until tonight. And, I don't know about you, but I don't generally watch my relatives sleep. Which means the snake probably would have gotten to him anyway. And," he added a little more hotly, "Jamie and that other girl would be dead. Those people would have fed them to the animals and we wouldn't have gotten there in time. So I'll take one death over three any day."

"That's why you were a lousy doctor," Allison sneered. "You always boil things down to neat, logical terms. No room for compassion or empathy."

Being demeaned by Allison was nothing new, and he'd long since learned how to deal with it. "I've got a lot of work to do, Allison." It was a dismissal, and he made sure she heard it in his tone, but she didn't heed it. Instead she posted up on the opposite side of the lab and began flipping through her tablet quietly. Realizing that was probably the closest he was going to get to her leaving him alone, he didn't say anything more.

It took almost three hours, but finally he'd synthesized something he was pretty sure would do the trick. His grunt of triumph drew the attention of the woman across the room, and she stowed her device away to inspect his work.

"What is it?"

"This," he held up the small vial of cream colored liquid, "is the solution to your snake problem."

Allison scoffed, and Mitch could practically hear her eyes rolling. "Just tell me how it will work."

"I'd rather not," he told her bluntly. It wasn't exactly the most diplomatic thing to say, but no one had ever accused Mitch of being tactful.

"Mitch," Allison's tone had instantly changed to the overbearing bossiness he expected from her, "you are using my lab to make a poison you want to dump into the water supply, so just lose the whole misunderstood misanthrope act and tell me out it will work, or I will shut it down."

"Hey," a voice interrupted her tirade and both of them looked up to see a rather furious Jamie stomping toward them. Or at least she tried to look imposing; the limp she was still sporting detracted from the effect somewhat. "What the hell gives you the right to come in here and treat everyone like you own them?"

Though her defense of him was both endearing and hot as hell, Mitch knew Allison would answer the challenge with just as much vigor and he didn't really feel up to getting in the middle of a fight at the moment.

"Deputy Secretary of Defense," Allison raised her chin defiantly. "And as I said, this is my plane. I brought Mitch here, gave him this lab." She turned to him then, her tone lightening just slightly. "Because I believe in you," she said candidly. "Eleanor sent me dozens of alternatives to the Noah Objective. I passed on all of them until I saw your name. All of this," she swept her arm in a wide arc to encompass the lab, "is because I know you better than anyone. You're the best at what you do, you just needed someone to back you up."

It was certainly convincing, her imploring openness. He even saw a glimmer of the woman he had fallen for twelve years ago peeking through the hard exterior and it tugged at his heart. But Allison was very good at emotional manipulation, and she had already fooled him once. If he'd run into her a year ago he might have fallen for it again, but so much had changed since then.

"Allison," he spoke evenly, "while I appreciate the fancy new digs and the state of the art lab, I don't need to be here. As a matter of fact, I'll be happy to hop off right now and you can figure this out yourself. I've already lost too much to this damn animal apocalypse." His eyes cut to Jamie, who was all but smiling encouragingly. "So either you believe in me - in which case I don't have to tell you how it works, just that it works - or you don't, and we're done."

Allison looked back and forth between the two of them and weighed her options. She was scowling as she stormed away, but Mitch didn't care. He turned to Jamie with a proud smirk.

"My hero," he told her, and she scoffed lightly. "Seriously, though, thank you. She can be…"

"A bitch?"

Mitch choked at her rather abrupt description. "Yeah," he said once he got his breathing back under control.

"So," she settled at his side and leaned her good hip against the table to take weight off her right foot, "you said you've figured it out?"

"Yep," he held up the vial, "this should affect the snake's sensory organ, causing it to swell and press against the brain. Eventually it'll shut off all of the snake's bodily functions." He thought it was funny how he felt no misgivings about explaining the whys and hows to Jamie, even though she hadn't asked. Maybe that was why, he surmised, because she hadn't asked. Explaining the science side of things to her was almost reflex, to share with her his successes and enjoy the look on her face as she soaked in new information. It felt good, this scene of the two of them chatting in the lab. It was almost something like normal for them, and he savored the familiarity of it.

She eyed the vial curiously. "Will it hurt humans?" Mitch immediately upended the vial into his mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste but smacking his lips anyway as he swallowed the mouthful. Jamie smirked and rolled her eyes. "For science?" He shrugged with a self-satisfied smile. "A simple yes would have sufficed."

"More fun my way," he told her. "Now I gotta make a whole bunch of this stuff."

"How long will that -"

A loud crash from the main lab area made them both jump. Mitch peeked around the staircase and cringed. "Uh oh." The tank that had housed the snake was on the floor, open and empty. He moved quickly to the the intercom on the wall and pressed the button that would broadcast to the whole plane. "Uh, we've got a problem in here."

"Mitch," Jamie was creeping back toward him, and he turned to find the snake slithering slowly in their direction.

"Come on," he reached for her hand and tugged her slowly around the stairs. The snake turned to follow, cutting off their access to the rear exit.

"Is it venomous?" Jamie asked.

"Not usually" Mitch said without taking his eyes off the serpent. "Looks like a kingsnake, but I have no idea what the mutation's done to its biochemistry. Let's not get bitten just in case." He backed her up a little more, shifting to stand in front of her in case it struck.

Footsteps heralded the arrival of the rest of the plane's inhabitants, and Mitch gestured for all of them stay back.

"You okay?" Abe asked.

"For the moment," Mitch answered.

"Where's the poison?" Allison asked.

"The professor here drank it," Jamie jabbed him lightly in the ribs.

"You what?"

"I was making a point," he told her without ever taking his eyes off the snake. If it struck he wanted to be ready.

Dariela began to move toward the front of the plane. "I'll get the tranqs."

"I got this," Jackson said suddenly, and all eyes shifted to him.

"Jackson?"

But Jackson wasn't listening to anyone; his eyes were focused intently on the snake lying just feet away. "Easy," he murmured. Mitch knew he should probably say something, to give him some sort of advice or caution, but the scientist in him really wanted to see what would happen. Would Jackson's mutation give him some sort of control? He'd seen evidence of that with the ants, but that hadn't been a conscience effort. As Jackson eased closer, Mitch watched in rapt attention.

"Easy," Jackson held his hand palm out as he got within a foot of the snake. No one moved a muscle as he knelt down to grab the animal, and Mitch was probably the only one unsurprised when the snake didn't bite. Jackson placed it back in the tank and everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.

" _Rafiki_?" Abe was the first to speak as Mitch helped him set the tank somewhere the snake couldn't move it again. "How did you…?"

Jackson looked sheepish as he turned back toward the team. "We should talk."

Mitch stepped away to give Allison the chemical formula for the poison as the rest of them settled around Jackson for his explanation. She didn't look too happy to be sent away, but Mitch reminded her that the faster she did, the sooner her family's problem would go away. She left with a promise to return, to which he just waved halfheartedly. He'd hoped that once they'd solved the orchard problem she would go back to Washington. He should have known his luck wasn't that great. When he rejoined the others, Jackson was already talking about the new cure.

"Here," Mitch grabbed a monitor and wheeled it over. "There's something you should all see."

He showed them the triple-helix DNA he'd discovered, as well as the genomic fossils he'd already identified - the vultures, the sloth, the ants, and now the snake.

"So that leaves us three more animals to identify and capture," Jamie said.

Mitch nodded. "Once we've identified all seven genomic fossils, I should be able to eliminate that third strand." He tapped a sequence on the keyboard and the mutated DNA on the screen returned to the normal double helix.

"Looks like you got your work cut out for you."

Dariela's statement wasn't surprising - Mitch hadn't really expected her to stay on this long, much less when faced with the prospect of globe hopping for mystery animals. What was surprising, however, were Jackson's next words.

"We could use your help." Ever since Chloe's death, Jackson and Dariela's relationship had become strained, almost hostile. Mitch didn't blame him, but he also understood that the Ranger had made a difficult call. He'd made a few of those in his day, and while he was still hurting from the loss of his friend, he didn't hate Dariela for it. _But you still can't forgive Abe for New Brunswick?_ He silenced his inner voice harshly. This was no time for rational arguments.

No one said anything for a moment, and Dariela looked almost surprised. The pregnant pause lasted a little longer, and everyone seemed to be holding their breath for her answer.

"Be good to have with us on the team," Jackson continued. "What do you say?"

"Copy that." It was an olive branch, and she'd taken it.

Jackson nodded in acceptance and pushed away from the counter to leave as Abe moved in the direction of the cockpit. Trotter often took a nap in his own quarters near the front of the plane when they were grounded, so Abe had taken it upon himself to be his back up. Trotter had even given the man a crash course on flying a large jetliner, and while Abe would likely wait until Trotter was awake to take off, he would do all the preflight checks now.

Dariela followed Jackson toward the living quarters, leaving Mitch, Jamie and Logan in the lab. Mitch began to clean up from his earlier enterprise. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Logan lean in and whisper something to Jamie, and the knee-jerk resentment it brought him caused Mitch to clench his fist a bit too hard. The glass vial in his hand shattered, and he winced as a shard of it slid into his palm.

"Mitch, you okay?" Jamie was immediately at his side grabbing for his hand. "Let me see."

"I'm alright," he told her. "Really, it's nothing." He pulled his hand away and reached for a pair of forceps.

"Here," she took them from him and pushed him back toward the stool. "Sit."

He complied, and over her shoulder he saw Logan's frown. _Good_ , he thought childishly. He had no idea where it was coming from, but the satisfaction upon seeing the other man's discomfort made him smile a bit. He held still as Jamie carefully gripped the shard and pulled it from his skin. It bled a little, but he wouldn't need stitches.

"Clean that," Jamie directed.

"Yes, doctor."

That earned him a slap on the shoulder and a bright smile. He stayed on the stool and pushed himself over to the sink to run his hand under water. Once clean, he turned to grab the remains of the medical kit he'd used earlier on her foot. She had beaten him to it, however, and was coming back over with gauze, medical tape, and antibiotic ointment. He recognized the look on her face, her need to to _something_ , so he let her finish bandaging him up. Logan left at some point, but Mitch was so focused on Jamie's presence that he hadn't noticed.

"He likes you," he blurted out when she was finished.

Her demeanor changed instantly, and he wished he could take it back. "I saved his life," she said matter-of-factly. "Twice. He's infatuated. He'll get over it." She pushed back and put everything away as Mitch watched her. He wanted to apologize, but he had no idea what for.

"I'm kind of tired," Jamie announced suddenly, "and it's after three in the morning. I'm gonna go back to sleep." She left without another word, leaving Mitch alone in the lab. He wanted to follow her, but there was still a mess in the lab - _and in her head_ , his inner voice added. Deciding she probably just needed some time alone, he let her go and turned back to his workstation with a sigh.

* * *

A/N: Perturbations: The disturbances in the orbit of a celestial object caused by the gravitational pull of another object; deviations of a system, moving object, or process from its regular or normal state of path, caused by outside influences.


	19. Sex, Lies and Jellyfish - Cast Away

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 19: Sex, Lies and Jellyfish - Cast Away

 _Jamie struggles to find her place in the new team dynamic as they continue to search for animals with the Phase 2 mutation._

* * *

 _She had to get away. It was the only thought in her head, the one thing that drove her forward as her pursuer gave chase. Run. Her feet made no noise as she raced through the darkness, and though she couldn't see the ground beneath them she knew she had to keep going, keep running. She couldn't let it catch her._

 _Jamie turned her head to try and get a glimpse of whatever was chasing her, but all she could see was gleaming eyes in the darkness. Snarls and screams echoed around her, and the hot breath of something snapped at her heels as she pushed herself faster._

 _She ran forever with no respite. No matter which way she twisted or turned it stayed at her back, always only one step behind. There was no escape. She thought about stopping, about turning to face it head on, but just as quickly the thought fled. She hadn't seen it, but she knew what it was. A monster. If she let it catch her it would consume her, devour her until there was nothing left but a memory._

 _Jamie cried out as her foot caught and she stumbled. Her hands moved to protect her head instinctively as she rolled, and when her eyes opened it was upon her. It snapped and clawed at her, its yellow teeth sinking into Jamie's flesh even as she tried to scramble away. Still it advanced, but even with it so close she couldn't quite see it properly. The looming form pounced and Jamie went down under its weight. Teeth found her again, ripping her skin open to let the darkness inside._

 _Defeated, she sagged bonelessly to the ground. The monster stilled. Jamie raised her head to see, to meet her doom with the last of her dignity, but the monster was gone. The form lying next to her was no animal, and even as she turned it over she knew what she'd find. Empty eyes and slack features, the last traces of surprise leaking away with his life. Mace. The man who had wanted to kill her. The man she had killed._

 _Jamie grabbed the knife now protruding from his chest and pulled, begging silently for him to get up. He didn't. She opened her mouth to apologize, to plead for forgiveness, but nothing came out. She looked down at her arm, where the beast had laid it open, and saw streams of light leaking from the wound like blood. She tried to stifle it, to keep the light within her, but it seeped through her fingers and faded into the darkness._

 _Finally she screamed. Then she woke._

"Jamie?" Mitch was sitting on her bed when she started awake, her eyes wide and wild. For a moment she didn't recognize where she was, who she was with, and she tensed. Then the soft tenor of his voice cut through the haze and she relaxed. She was with Mitch. She was safe.

"I'm alright," she told him before he could ask. He seemed to be asking a lot lately, and she was growing tired of the question. "Just a dream." She could see he wanted to say something, but he didn't. That pissed her off more. "Sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't," he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. She hadn't noticed its warmth on her leg until it was gone, and she stifled a shudder at the chill that crept in. "I was doing some stuff in the lab," he finished lamely. She remembered leaving him there hours ago, overcome by a sudden wave of anger that she hadn't known what to do with. It frustrated her and compounded on top of the already maddening task of figuring out where she fit in now. She felt like a stranger among her closest friends, and her closest companion right now was being treated like an enemy. They didn't trust Logan, she knew that, and Mitch least of all. But hearing the ridicule in his voice when he spoke about the man who had survived the frozen wilderness with her had been too much. She'd left him alone with little more than a cursory goodnight, and she knew she'd hurt him.

But she didn't want to hurt him. She wanted…

What did she want?

 _I want things the way they were_ , she admitted to herself. But even as the words played in her mind she knew it was impossible. Things were different now, irrevocably so. She would need to learn where she fit in this new world. She just hoped that wherever that was, Mitch fit next to her.

"Uh, Jackson says there's something we all need to hear. He's called a team meeting." _That's a start, at least._ She was still part of the team, and she recognized the effort Mitch was putting in to make sure she knew it.

"Okay," she pushed herself to sitting with some effort and shifted to move the blankets. Mitch stood and backed up, his entire demeanor unsure and hesitant. Jamie felt a flash of irritation at how delicate he was being, like he was afraid any misstep could set her off. "I'll be there in a minute. You don't have to stay." She had always been good at reading people - it was an occupational hazard she supposed - but with Mitch it was amplified tenfold. From day one she had been hypertuned to him and, despite the muddle that existed between them now, that hadn't changed. Her words hurt him, though he did his best to hide it from her.

"I, uh, I'll just...I'll see you there." He slipped out of the room quickly without looking back, and Jamie instantly felt guilty. This was his room, after all. She had no right to kick him out, even if the words had never left her lips. When this meeting was over, she would ask Jackson about taking Chloe's room.

Everyone was already assembled when she arrived. Abe and Dariela had posted up on the far side with Mitch and Jackson hovering nearby. Allison was standing in the center of the lab holding some sort of briefcase and looking annoyed. Logan had taken a seat on the stairs and as Jamie descended he nodded to the space next to him. She stopped a few steps above him and sat on the opposite side. Her silent support of the man who was a stranger among them didn't go unnoticed by her friends, and Allison's frown deepened.

"Thank you for joining us." Her tone was all false friendliness and Jamie just smiled. She saw the warning look Mitch shot her but ignored it. Allison set the briefcase down on the table and unzipped it carefully. Her deliberate movements caught everyone's attention, and as she extracted what looked to be a very old newspaper everyone leaned in expectantly.

Dariela was the first to bite. "What is that?"

"It's a newspaper," Allison indicated the remaining stack of them. "A series of them, actually, from a periodical called _The Worldwide Courier_." Jamie racked her brain for any information about it, but the history of journalism had never been her point of interest. "It circulated in the late 1800's to a very small base of readers."

"And why do we care about a small-time paper from over a hundred years ago?" Dariela continued. Jamie agreed, though she didn't say it.

"Because of the headlines," Jackson spoke up now, drawing everyone's attention from Allison. "They reported the exact things we've seen already. Look," he gestured to the paper Allison was holding.

Mitch reached for it, glancing down at the headline before shaking his head. "Alright, we've seen a lot of weird stuff, but this?"

"We've verified its authenticity," Allison had remained somewhat centered among the group, as though she was taking charge. Jamie didn't like it. "These articles are very real."

Abe finally spoke from his position near the back. He had grabbed a seat just behind Dariela, his large frame dwarfing her smaller one. "The animals also did this in 1895?"

"Only the animals causing environmental changes," Jackson explained. "The triple-helix animals."

"The same ones we need for the cure," Dariela added.

This time Jamie was unable to contain her snide remark. "We?" she sneered at the other woman. Dariela just stared back, answering the challenge but not escalating it.

Mitch stepped into her eyeline, breaking the staredown as he pushed the conversation forward. "For the cure, we need the genomic fossils of seven specific animals."

"Okay," Jamie turned her attention back toward the rest of the team, "but if these triple-helix animals have been around for over a hundred years, why are we just hearing about them now?"

" _The Worldwide Courier_ was viewed like a tabloid," Allison explained. "The 'I Saw Bigfoot on a Date with Elvis' of its day. People thought they were fiction."

Jamie leaned over toward Logan, not bothering to lower her voice enough to remain unheard by the rest of them. "Gee, I wonder why." Logan huffed with amusement at her derision and Allison glared at both of them.

Mitch had been pacing around slowly in front of the stairs, but now came to rest just in front of the rail. He was standing physically between Allison and Jamie, and the message of his body language was clear. Jamie felt a twinge of shame at her behavior, for forcing Mitch to place himself in that position in the first place. But just knowing he was willing to do so, to put himself between her and the rest of team if necessary, made her feel better. She'd been in love with him since long before the plane crash, and their separation had only heightened the yearning she had to see him again, to hold him and be held by him. But reuniting with him, with the team, hadn't been as smooth as she'd imagined it. So much had happened in such a short time - had it only been a week? - and obviously the rest of them had seen more than glass-shedding snakes.

She realized with a start that the debate was still going, and Jamie shook her head to clear the cobwebs. She could suss it all out later; right now she needed to focus on the problem at hand.

"No eye witness," Mitch was saying. "These articles tell us nothing."

"Actually, they do show us something," Jackson corrected. All eyes turned to him and he grabbed one of the papers. "Alright, these articles show us all the animals so far that have caused environmental changes, right? The sloth, the electric ants, snakes."

Wow, they had been busy. "You guys have come across all that?" Jamie glanced at Mitch, who shrugged apologetically.

"You missed a lot," he said simply. She knew he hadn't meant it to cut deep, but she recoiled anyway. The point was driven home, and she retreated mentally as the team began to work out a plan regarding the remaining animals in the papers. She heard something about jellyfish and hurricanes, but she wasn't really paying attention anymore. Instead she observed, watching body language and gestures. Jackson, Mitch, Abe, even Dariela, they all seemed so at ease and comfortable working through the situation as a unit. A unit that no longer included her.

It wasn't until their destination had been decided and the meeting adjourned that Jamie seemed to refocus. Allison was already walking away, shouting commands over her shoulder.

"I'll make some calls. Mitch, can you tell Trotter to change course to Portugal, then come see me?"

"Whatever you say, boss." Jamie smirked at the mock salute he gave her behind her back.

"Actually, I'm not the boss," Allison sounded almost gleeful as she delivered the news. "You are."

Mitch sputtered and glanced at the rest of them in surprise. Jamie thought he looked adorable all flustered like that, but she didn't say so. Jackson replaced all of the newspapers in the briefcase and zipped it up, then clapped Mitch on the shoulder.

"Congrats on the promotion," he mumbled before exiting quickly. Abe and Dariela soon followed, and even Logan could read the tension that had suddenly erupted in the room. He stood and started up the stairs, pausing only to ask her a question with his glance. Jamie shook her head, and he continued alone.

"Mitch?" Jamie prodded once they were alone. She hadn't moved from her perch on the stairs, but he was now bent over an exam table with his head lowered in mock concentration. She knew enough about him to know his sudden focus was a cover; whenever Mitch was really interested in something he perked up, his mannerisms and gestures became exaggerated and his speech grew faster. This silent, near brooding Mitch was a new creature. "You okay?"

"Hmm?" he looked up suddenly. "Oh, yeah." He instantly straightened up and grabbed at the briefcase full of old papers. "I need to, uh, go tell Trotter to get us in the air." He left just as quickly as the others had, leaving Jamie with only her thoughts to keep her company.

"I need a drink."

She found the bar without much trouble. She raised her brow at the limited stock, but she supposed they didn't have much time to go shopping what with all of the world traveling they'd done recently. She poured herself a drink and downed half of it before she felt brave enough for her next task.

She found Jackson in the vehicle bay checking and re-checking their equipment. He looked up at her when she stopped in the doorway and offered her a bright smile. "Hey, Jamie."

She returned his greeting with a flat one of her own, but made no move to enter the bay fully. Now that she was confronted with the opportunity, she found that the words wouldn't come. Thankfully, Jackson seemed to sense she needed to say something. He finished with what he was doing and walked up the few steps to stand in front of her.

"Getting settled back in?" he asked.

"Considering this is my first time on this flying fortress at all, settling back in isn't something I can do." _Stop it, Jamie! He's just trying to help_. Jackson didn't seem to mind her brusque tone and stayed silent to let her get on with what she was trying to say. "I mean, yeah. It's just...I'm having a hard time processing it all at once, I guess."

"Nothing says you have to," he rubbed her arm comfortingly. "Nobody here is going to begrudge you the time you need to heal. You've been through a lot."

"So have you," Jamie didn't say it outright, but she let her expression display the sorrow she was still feeling at Chloe's loss. She could see in Jackson's eyes that he understood what she hadn't said, and his smile fell away.

"Yeah, it's been…" he trailed off, unable to find a word for it. "We're all still reeling, I guess."

"Listen," she plowed on, emboldened by a sudden surge of bravery. "I was wondering how you would feel about me staying in Chloe's room. I mean, I've sort of taken over Mitch's room and I know he says he doesn't mind but he's used to having his own room and -"

"Jamie," Jackson held up his hand to cut off her rambling. "It's fine. I, uh, I've been meaning to pack up her things to send to her sister. I just...couldn't ever bring myself to actually go in her room."

"I can do it," Jamie offered. "I need something to keep me busy, to keep my mind off of…" She didn't want to tell him about her nightmares, about her fear of losing herself in the darkness. Thankfully, he didn't pry.

"Okay," Jackson agreed. "And hey, listen," he stopped her before she had completely turned to leave, "if you ever wanna talk about it, about what happened out there...I mean, I know you've probably already talked about it with Mitch but the offer stands."

Jamie nodded once and departed, unable to admit that she hadn't really talked about it. Oh, she'd relayed the basics of her adventures on the drive back from Caraquet, but she hadn't actually sat down with anyone and really delved into the details, much less her feelings and reactions. Just the thought of reliving it so soon made her shudder, and she retreated away from Jackson and the vehicle bay before she lost her composure.

Chloe's room was neat, tidy, and Jamie smiled. She'd expected nothing less. She'd only been in here once to grab a change of clothes from the drawers but she hadn't really had a chance to examine the room. Chloe had really made it hers in just the short time she'd lived there. A large photo of Paris at night hung on the wall near the door, held tight to the wall with putty. Jamie pried it off carefully and set it on the soft quilt that was folded on the end of the bed. A photo of Jackson and Chloe sat on the nightstand, and Jamie carefully laid it on the bed to give to Jackson later. The small clock radio she left, knowing from the twin on Mitch's dresser that it had probably come standard with the room.

She spent the next hour or so sifting through Chloe's small collection of clothes. Things she could use she kept in the drawers, folding the rest on top of the quilt to be given back to Chloe's sister. Shoes were next, and Jamie raised her eyes at the five pairs set neatly in the upright closet. Jamie discovered Chloe had small feet, but there were a pair of slippers that were comfortable enough. The rest went onto the pile.

In the closet she also found a printer box filled to the top with files all related to their mission. Chloe had been a painstakingly thorough analyst, and she had copies of every single report all the way back to their first assignment as a team.

Jamie sat cross legged on the bed as she read every one of them. Hours went by as she replayed their early adventures, from the wolves in Mississippi to the jaguars in Africa. It was then that Jamie learned just how far Chloe had gone to keep Delavane and the others from knowing who had shot Ben Schaffer. Chloe had protected her, shielded her from her bosses at the risk of her own job. Jamie read about Chloe's kidnapping, the torture of her sister, and her subsequent rescue by a man she'd thought had betrayed her. By the time she reached the report of the plane crash, tears were streaking down her face.

It was miracle, she surmised, that any of them had survived that crash. Jackson had sustained the worst injuries, and Chloe's worry and sorrow at his condition seeped out of every word as she detailed the surgeries he'd required.

The next few months were written more like journal entries than official reports, but they were no less thorough. She felt a little like a voyeur, prying into Chloe's private thoughts, and she went to set them aside. But then her eye caught Mitch's name at the beginning of one of the pages and she couldn't resist.

 _Mitch is coming back for the trial. I believe the last few weeks in Louisiana have done him some good, but we need him to present the data against Reiden Global. He is still grieving Jamie's death, but he sounded better when I spoke to him. Lighter, but still haunted. Perhaps after Reiden has finally been brought to justice he can begin to heal._

So there had been a trial. In the chaos of the last few days she hadn't even thought to ask. She had assumed, of course, that Reiden had been tried and punished for their numerous crimes. But seeing it on paper, reading the first hand account of her friends' continuation of her fight, was almost surreal. Jamie sifted through the next few sheets, eager to read all about Reiden's downfall. It wasn't as good as witnessing it, but she could practically feel the vindication waiting within the pages.

"Oh my God," Jamie choked as she read the outcome of the trial. Indemnity. Never had four syllables offended her so badly. She should have expected it really. For over twenty years Reiden Global had slithered out of the grasp of justice. But it still stung. Jamie swiped at fresh tears as she uncovered the gag order, signed by all four of her friends. Her fingers traced the depressions from the pens, gliding over each name in turn. Mitch's burned the most, his jagged doctor's scrawl barely recognizable except for the two large M's that marked the signature as his.

 _We signed. It broke my heart to watch Mitch do it, but Jackson is right. We have to carry on, to complete the mission and save the world. The cure is still out there, and we are no good to the world behind bars._

Silence or prison. It was a harsh compromise, if that was even the right word for it. Blackmail was more apt. Knowing they had been forced to sign changed things, though it didn't take the sting out of the fact that Reiden had once again dodged the metaphorical bullet. Not only that, but according to Chloe's next few reports Reiden seemed to be spearheading the Noah Objective at the behest of the government.

"Figures," Jamie set those reports aside. She wasn't sure she needed the particulars on how Reiden planned on ruining the world further. Her stress levels were high enough.

Jamie slowly worked through the next few months, and Chloe's reports became more official again as she and Jackson joined the IADG team searching for a new source for the cure. Still, there were snippets of asides, mostly about Jackson's recovery and worry for a now-absent Abe. Mitch, she learned, had agreed to consult, though he was conspicuously missing from most of the daily reports and briefings Chloe had copied. Mentions of him seemed to lie mostly in her personal entries.

 _Mitch isn't taking my calls. I've asked Jackson to look in on him, but he says Mitch won't answer the door either. I'm afraid he's beginning to spiral. If something does not change, I fear we may lose him for good. Mitch has all but given up on everything and everyone. The last time I saw him, he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. I know he spends his days at the bar near his apartment. Is this what love does to a man? Renders him incapable of living in its absence? If so, I fear I have never been loved as truly as Mitch loved her._

Jamie couldn't read another word. She stacked all of the files and papers back into the box and set the two photographs and the quilt on top, as though she was trying to shield herself from the truth of Chloe's words. She hated reading about his misery, but at the same time it comforted her. It helped to know that she wasn't the only one who was sometimes overpowered with the force of this thing between them. Mitch loved her, fiercely and absolutely. It was a truth she could hold onto in the turbulent torment in her mind, an anchor in rough seas. Hopefully it would be enough.

"Jamie?" A soft knock followed Mitch's voice, and she jumped guiltily. He slid the door back and peeked in, his face scrunched in confusion at finding her sitting on Chloe's bed. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she shifted to swing her feet to the floor and stand up. "I was just packing Chloe's things to send to her sister. I didn't think Jackson wanted to."

"Oh, right, yeah," Mitch's face fell as he finally realized what she was doing. "I'm going to talk to Allison about making a quick detour to Paris after we're done in Portugal. We can make sure Chloe gets a proper burial." He was hurting still, she could see it on his face. Chloe had been his friend, too. Had he given himself time to grieve? She'd bet not, given his usual _modus operandi_.

"You know, you're the boss now," Jamie pointed out. "You don't really have to ask her."

He grimaced and shifted his weight to lean against the door frame. "Please don't remind me." She guessed he'd already talked to Allison and had been unable to worm his way out of the command position. Really, though, he was the best person for the job. "Speaking of, though," he continued, "Allison asked about you. And your friend."

Jamie frowned at the not-so-subtle scorn in his voice. "He has a name." Then his words registered and she took a step toward him. "What did you tell her?"

"To give you time," he said. "I told her you were still settling, and that you'd been through something that would take more than just a few naps and a good meal to process. She's...persistent, though. She wants to question you."

"Question me?" Jamie was immediately defensive. "About what?"

"About Logan," he told her. "And if I'm being honest, I have a few questions myself."

"Like what?"

"Like who the hell is he? And how can we be sure he can be trusted?" He was within his rights to ask; Jamie knew if she was in his position she'd be asking the same thing. But there was something more in his tone than simple curiosity, or even blatant paranoia.

"He can be trusted," she insisted. "We went through hell out there... _together_. If you don't trust him, then trust me. He's one of the good ones."

Mitch just stared at her, something dark and undefinable in his eyes. "Still, Allison thinks it best if the two of you stay onboard once we're in Portugal."

"And what do you think?" Jamie countered.

Mitch drew himself up to his full height. "I think the two of you still need time to recover, and galavanting around Portugal in the middle of a hurricane isn't exactly restful."

"You're grounding us?" Jamie had no idea where this sudden bitterness was coming from, but she could guess. "Well, I suppose _Allison_ knows best."

Her blow hit the mark and he recoiled. She saw his jaw work as he fought against the retort he no doubt had at the ready, and once again she was reminded just how much she meant to him. She opened her mouth to apologize, to mutter some excuse for her behavior, but nothing came. He stared at her a moment longer before turning away. She heard his footsteps fade to silence as he stalked away, and finally she found her voice.

" _Dammit._ "

They were five hours into their twelve hour flight when the plane's night cycle began. Jamie had moved into Chloe's room with little more than Mitch's old t-shirt and a spare toothbrush from the supply closet. A soft tone chimed from the intercom before the lights dimmed slightly and the shades automatically lowered over the windows.

Jamie looked up from the soup she was eating as Logan knocked on her open door. He hovered for a moment then stepped inside.

"So what's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing," Jamie set the bowl on her bedside table.

"Uh huh," Logan wasn't buying it. "I know how to tell when someone's lying, Jamie."

"Takes one to know one?" she quipped.

"Whoa," Logan's brow raised suddenly. "Jamie, what the hell -?"

"I'm sorry," she shook her head softly, "I just...I'm still off balance, I guess. Nothing is the way I thought it would be."

"Tell me about it," Logan laughed. "I have to say...Mitch? Not at all what I expected."

"How so?"

He shrugged and leaned against the frame in an inadvertent copy of Mitch's early position. "Guess I pictured more of a drummer, less of a lead singer."

Jamie nodded in easy agreement. "Yeah, Mitch isn't terribly thrilled with the reins of command either."

"Seems like he'll be good at it, though," Logan commented. "He likes being the smartest guy in the room."

"To be fair," Jamie pointed out, "he usually is."

"Okay, but why does he hate me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Jamie countered weakly. Logan glared at her, but she persisted. "He just...he doesn't like change, is all. Give him a few days, he'll come around." Logan turned to go, but stopped when she called his name. "Just thought I should tell you, we're not going with the rest of team in Portugal."

"So where are we going?"

"Nowhere, apparently. Mitch said Allison has some questions for us."

"Questions?" Logan frowned. "What kind of questions?"

"I don't know. And frankly, I don't care. I don't like her."

"I think the feeling is mutual," Logan said. "Though, I guess it's only natural."

Jamie's brow furrowed in confusion. "What is?"

"Oh come on, Jamie," Logan laughed again. "She and Mitch have a history."

"Yeah, she's his ex stepmother." Even as she said it, there was something about Logan's statement that settled at the back of her mind and wouldn't let go.

Her admission caught him by surprise. "Seriously? That's totally not the vibe I got from the two of them." At her questioning look, he shrugged one shoulder. "Look, I might be reading it wrong. My judgment isn't the greatest these days."

She scoffed and tossed a decorative pillow at him. "Thanks."

"Not what I meant," he smiled and tossed it back. "But if the shoe fits…" He closed the door before she could throw something else at him, and she heard him chuckling at his own joke as he walked away.

Was there more to Mitch's past with Allison than he was telling her? She tried to remember what else Mitch had said about her, if he'd hinted at anything -

" _Listen, there's something I have to tell you about Allison before -"_

He had been trying to tell her something. Suddenly nothing else mattered except finding out what it was, and she made her way quickly to the lab. Everyone else had retired for the night, but she knew Mitch. He would still be working, using every ounce of his substantial brainpower to solve their dilemma.

She found him hunched over a keyboard, his head bobbing as he glanced at the keys then back to the screen. How an egghead like him had never learned to type was baffling, but then again Jamie had a lot practice under her belt because of her chosen career.

"Mitch?" He didn't acknowledge her, and as she crept closer she discovered why.

Faint chords from a rock guitar floated from the earbuds he had in, and she realized that some of his head bobbing wasn't actually work-related. He was jamming. She tapped him on the shoulder lightly, but he still jumped like she'd struck him. Jamie smiled in amusement at the tiny shriek that escaped his lips.

"Sorry," she said as he pulled one of the buds from his ears. "What's that?" she nodded at the small music player that he had clipped to his belt.

"'Superunknown'," he answered as he reached for the pause button. At her baffled look he elaborated. "Soundgarden?"

"Never heard of them," Jamie shrugged, and his jaw dropped comically. "What?"

"You've never heard of Soundgarden? One of the greatest grunge rock bands to ever come out of Seattle?"

It looked like he was going to pretend that their earlier argument hadn't happened, and she took her cue from him. "I grew up in Nowhere, Louisiana, remember? We got, like, four stations tops. And that was on a clear day. Two of those were country."

He winced sympathetically. "Sorry. Do you wanna listen?" He offered the earbud to her, but she shook her head. "Suit yourself. You haven't lived until you've heard Chris Cornell belting out quasi-comprehensible lyrics."

"Maybe next time," she took the bite out of her words with a smile. "What are you working on?"

"Oh, uh, just tinkering with the triple-helix." He tapped a few keys and saved his work. "There's something else I'm missing. It's staring right at me, but I can't see it. I'm hoping the more I know about Jackson's DNA, the easier it'll be to find what I'm missing when we get the jellyfish."

"You'll figure it out," she told him. "You always do."

He accepted her compliment with a quick nod of his head but remained silent. Jamie hated the awkwardness that seemed ever-present these days. They didn't used to have such trouble simply being in the same room. She'd never felt the need to fill the silence before, but now it just felt oppressive.

"Did you need something or just can't sleep?" he asked finally.

"Actually," she turned and grabbed a nearby stool. When she sat down so did he, swiveling to face her. "There is something. Yesterday, before we went to the orchards, you said there was something you needed to tell me about Allison."

She could practically see his walls slamming in place. The muscles in his face hardened into an impenetrable mask as he straightened up. Then, just as quickly, it all fell away again. She recognized that Mitch was forcing himself to open up, to talk about whatever had caused that visceral reaction, and Jamie wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know anymore. Logan had been right - there was more this story.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I tried to talk to you a few times about it, but something always keeps interrupting."

"Well, everyone else is sleeping now, and we're several miles in the sky on our way to Portugal. Shoot."

Mitch stood and paced a few times, just a short route to the exam table and back again. He was collecting his thoughts, sorting through them to find the best starting place, and Jamie let him be. Finally he stopped in front of her and sank back down onto his stool with a sigh.

"Allison and I...we used to be...we dated. For a short time."

Mitch had dated his stepmother? Was that why she was his ex stepmother? Had Allison divorced Mitch's father and traded him in for a newer model? Had Mitch encouraged it? Had she seduced him?

"Jamie?"

"Hmm?" she shook her head sharply, snapping herself out of her thoughts. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he offered her a reassuring smile. "It's sort of a shock, I know. I was shocked, too, when my father and my girlfriend announced their engagement."

"What?" It was Jamie's turn to drop her jaw in surprise.

"What?" Mitch echoed. "Did you think it happened the other way round?" He sounded more curious than offended, though just barely.

"No," she denied immediately. "I just...I never expected…"

"I know," he grimaced. "It took twelve years of alcohol and repression for me to come to terms with it myself."

Jamie wasn't sure he had actually come to terms with anything, but she didn't say so. "What happened with her and your dad? I mean, she's not your stepmom now."

"Well, the only thing that never changes is my father's indescribable ability to fall in love, marry, and divorce women at an extremely impressive and therapy-necessitating rate." His sardonic smile soured, and for a moment she saw the pain he had spent so long suppressing. She couldn't imagine the sort of betrayal that would have been, and her dislike for Allison blossomed suddenly into a seething hatred.

"Can't you kick her off the plane?" Jamie asked darkly.

"Apparently my power doesn't extend quite that far," Mitch lamented. "Listen, tomorrow when she's asking you questions, don't mention this, okay? Don't let her know you know."

"Why not?" Jamie had every intention of letting Allison know just what she thought of her at the very first opportunity.

"Because she loves to manipulate people. She already knows about us," he waved his hand between them vaguely. "She tried to pull the 'you're too close to this' card. If she thinks she can get to you, she'll push every button she can."

"Yeah, well, I tend to push back." Jamie stood and rolled her stool back to the other side of the lab.

"I know," Mitch sounded almost amused, and when she looked at him he was smiling a bit. "She's going to look for any excuse she can to get rid of Logan."

"You don't sound terribly broken up about it," Jamie crossed her arms over her chest as Mitch adjusted his glasses and shrugged.

"I don't trust him."

"I do." It was as simple as that - at least she thought it was. Mitch's eyes flashed with that same unnameable thing as yesterday, and this time it didn't disappear. "He's a good guy, Mitch." She felt like a broken record saying it. She'd likely have to say it a few more times before they accepted it.

"I bet," he grumbled, and she finally realized what it was that had crept in and settled in his eyes.

"Are you jealous?" she asked suddenly. "Of Logan?" The thought was ludicrous, but even as he tried to shake his head in denial she saw the truth of him. "Oh my God, you are."

"Is that surprising?" he shot back. "Jamie, I love you." His blunt admission startled her but she didn't react. She knew that, of course, but it was the first time she'd heard the words since their phone call over a week ago. "It shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm not terribly fond of the only person you seem to be friendly with these days."

"You don't need to be jealous," she argued.

"This may come as a shock to you, but I'm not actually perfect," he held his hands out briefly in a shrug, but she was still watching his eyes. They had always let her know how he was really feeling, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. The jealousy was still there, but something more raw and open swam in their depths.

Idiot, she mentally berated herself for not understanding earlier. She quickly closed the distance between them and reached for his hand. He gripped it tightly, like a drowning man grasping at a life preserver.

"Mitch, look at me." He did, and she made sure he could see as much truth in her eyes as she saw in his. "I am not Allison. Her awful taste in clothing notwithstanding, we're different people for a variety of reasons. The greatest of which is that I would never do anything to hurt you. Not consciously, anyway." She thought about how short she'd been with him recently, and the many times he'd asked to help her only to be sent away with a curt dismissal. "I know I haven't been the greatest company lately. Sometimes, when it feels like I'm being stifled or coddled, I can be...tetchy. But I never -" She was quickly silenced with his finger on her lips.

"Don't apologize for any of that," he told her. "You need time, Jamie. I understand that. I do." He took a breath and let his hand drop from her mouth. "I'm just not so great with the whole 'sit back and do nothing' thing. Watching you work through it and not being able to help you is...beyond frustrating."

"Well, I am notoriously headstrong and independent," she joked. "How about a compromise? If you can give me space to work through the mess that my head has become, I promise to come to you with any problems."

"I can live with that," Mitch agreed. "As long as you also come to me with good things, too. I want to be here for you, Jamie. For the bad stuff _and_ the good stuff."

"Okay." Jamie leaned forward and sealed the pact with a kiss. It was their first since the crash, since they'd woken up in this nightmare their lives had become. It was as sweet as she remembered, and for a moment everything else fell away. He responded immediately, reaching with hesitant hands to pull at her waist as his lips drank greedily from hers.

It was several long minutes before she pulled back, stifling a yawn with her hand. Mitch look guilty as his fingers drummed a random beat against her hips.

"You should get to bed," he told her.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Good night."

"Good night," he echoed, letting her step away from him with only minimal resistance. "I love you." It was the second time he'd uttered the phrase tonight, and Jamie wondered if her death had spurred this need in him to make sure she knew it. Whatever it was, she felt a flutter in her chest every time the words passed his lips.

"I love you too, Mitch." She watched him closely as she said it, and so didn't miss the way the pain his eyes dimmed ever so slightly as she returned the sentiment. _Oh yes_ , she promised herself as she made her way back up to the living quarters, _Allison was going to pay dearly._

"I'm gonna need everyone to buckle up wherever they can," Trotter's voice rang through the speakers. "Things are about to get nasty."

The plane shook as he spoke, heralding their descent through the turbulent storms of the outer bands of Hurricane Paula. Jamie had been in the kitchen grabbing her morning juice, but as soon as the shudders began she made a beeline for the lounge where the seats had belts. She met Dariela there, no doubt looking for the same thing.

"We should be on the ground soon," the soldier said gruffly.

"Turbulence make you nervous?"

Not at all," Dariela moved toward the seats. "You?"

It did, but Jamie wasn't going to admit it. "The only thing on this plane that makes me nervous is you." She didn't know what came over her, but suddenly all of the frustration and confusion she'd been feeling since she'd gotten back surged up like a beast inside of her. The right cross came with no warning, catching Dariela across the jaw. She told herself it was for Chloe, that she was avenging the friend to whom she'd never gotten to say goodbye. She almost believed it.

Dariela righted herself easily. "First one's free," she warned. Jamie knew Dariela could wipe the floor with her; she was a trained Army Ranger after all. But vengeance was right there, and Jamie surprised even herself with the backhand that followed. Dariela took the blow and returned it one of her own. It hurt.

The next few seconds were a blur as Dariela fought to control her. Jamie lashed out, but she was no match for the other woman's elite training. Soon enough she was on the floor with Dariela's foot holding her down near her throat.

"Enough!" Dariela screamed. Jamie struggled but the other woman was stronger. "I know you're upset, but never do that again."

"Hey!" The pressure of Dariela's foot disappeared as Mitch bodily hauled her off of Jamie. Dariela didn't fight, but she did keep her distance as Mitch reached down to pull Jamie to her feet. He checked her over quickly, his eyes stopping somewhere just below her eyeline. Jamie could feel the swelling of her lip from where Dariela's punch had landed, and she tested the area gingerly with her tongue.

Mitch whirled on the Army Ranger furiously. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing," Dariela replied, her eyes cutting over to Jamie. "We were just working some stuff out. Won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't," he reached out to grab Dariela by the arm. "Go get strapped into the jumpseats. Now." Mitch turned to look over Jamie's shoulder, and she followed his gaze to see Logan hovering in the far door. "You, too, Junior."

Logan glanced at Jamie, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head. He returned it and followed Dariela toward the front of the plane as Mitch walked back over to her.

"You alright?" he inspected the cut on her lip.

"Fine," she replied curtly. The plane tilted once, and both of them reached out for the counter to steady them. "We need to get buckled in."

"Okay," he turned and let her lead them to the lounge seats. He waited until they'd secured their belts before speaking again. "What was that in there?"

"Like she said, we were working some stuff out." Jamie really didn't want to talk about it, but Mitch was persistent.

"Chloe stuff?"

"Yes," Jamie finally looked up at him, her expression fierce.

"Do you feel better?" His tone was more patronizing than she liked, so she decided to be just as snotty.

"I do."

He was upset with her - she could tell by the set of his jaw and the way he avoided eye contact - but he still reached for her hand as Trotter landed the plane in the middle of a hurricane. Jamie squeezed her eyes shut tight as they bounced around like a pinball in the gale force winds. When this was all over, she never wanted to step foot on another aircraft ever again.

"We're good, folks," Trotter's voice sounded almost smug as he reported their safe landing. "Weather reports say the hurricane threat has passed, though there are still some outer band storms to watch out for."

Mitch unbuckled and stood wordlessly, leaving her to scramble and follow. The others were emerging from all over the plane, and in less than five minutes everyone was assembled in the vehicle bay.

Logan cornered her while the others were collecting their gear. "What was that with Dariela?"

"I just wanted her to know she shouldn't be here after what she did."

"That was hardcore."

"Alright, listen up," Mitch raised his voice from his place at the top of the stairs. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but he adopted his teaching voice as he detailed their target. "The guy who has our jellyfish, his name is Duncan Santos. He's the local venom dealer here in Lisbon, because God knows every city needs one of those."

Jamie smirked at Mitch's scorn as Dariela spoke up. "What else do we know about him?"

"Biochemical genius," Mitch explained. "Did some time for producing a whole bunch of LSD. He also made a ton of money developing antivenom, which was in short supply after the animals went nuts."

"He's a war profiteer, is what he is," Abe added darkly.

"He also did a little time in the psych ward," Mitch went on. "Sipping too much of his own sauce."

"So we're going after a crazy, drug-addled venom dealer in the middle of a hurricane?" Dariela summarized.

"Yes," Mitch was beginning to sound annoyed by her questions, "because that is what we do." He turned to grab his bag. "Let's get this over with."

The door opened and Allison strode in her, face set in a determined frown. "Not so fast," she said dramatically. "I'm afraid I can't let you go with the rest of team." Her gaze had shot straight to Logan, but with Jamie standing so close it was toss up to which she was speaking. Jamie, however, had already prepared for this.

"Okay," she smiled disarmingly. "I'm sure you've got a lot of questions for me and Logan." She looked back at Mitch. "We'll coordinate with you from here, act as your base of operations."

"Sounds good," he nodded in agreement. Allison's face fell as her attempt to assert her control failed and Jamie smiled internally at their victory. She didn't have time to gloat, however. Mitch and the others were leaving.

"Hey," she jogged over to him and tugged his sleeve. "Be careful out there."

"Chasing a psychotic venom dealer through an unknown city in the middle of a storm that could drop a tropical cyclone on us at any moment? You bet." He leaned forward and kissed her in full view of the entire team. It wasn't as long or toe-curling as the one they'd shared in the lab last night, but it still warmed Jamie in a way that a hundred hot showers could never do.

Jamie could feel Allison's eyes on her as she watched the team load into the Hummer and drive away. Feeling just a little bit petty, she waited until the bay door was completely closed and sealed before she even turned around. Allison was staring at her with one raised eyebrow. She was off balance from her failed commanding entrance, but she recovered quickly.

"Ready?" she asked.

Jamie smiled sweetly. "You bet."

She followed Allison through the plane to the lounge. She had set up camp there, the blankets and pillows she'd borrowed folded neatly on the couch. Her laptop was already up and running as they sat at the table. Jamie settled into the chair and forced herself to appear comfortable. Mitch's warning about Allison's conniving nature replayed in her head and she was determined to control the conversation despite being the one under scrutiny.

Allison sat behind her laptop and made a show of prolonging the start of the interview by tapping on the keyboard randomly. Jamie sat as still as she could, her hands wringing idly under the table.

"Jamie," Allison said finally. "I'm going to cut right to the chase. This interview isn't about you. It's about Logan, and whether we can allow him to continue to remain with the team. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how critical this team's mission is. They can't afford to have any...distractions."

Jamie had been writing for a very long time, most of it professionally. She understood the importance of word use. Words like "we" and "they" were meant to separate her and Logan from the others, to create a rift Allison could later exploit.

"I agree," Jamie answered directly. "When are you going back to Washington again?"

Allison ignored her question and asked one of her own. "When did you first encounter Logan?"

"After I left the compound," Jamie told her plainly. "I found him nearly frozen to death."

"You found him, or he found you?" Allison clarified.

"Does it matter?" Truthfully, Jamie had asked herself the same question. She knew Logan had been hired to steal the leopard, but had he just been running from Mace and stumbled upon her or had he specifically sought her out to find out where the leopard had gone? She tried to pretend it didn't matter, that Logan had proved himself a friend, but it still gnawed at her sometimes.

Allison apparently thought the distinction was important as well. "Very much."

Jamie decided the truth was easier. There was something about Allison's line of questioning that reminded her of the way her aunt would interrogate the twins after they'd done something mischievous. She'd always known exactly what had happened, but she asked them anyway to see if they would try to weasel their way out with a lie. After the first dozen or so times, they caught on.

"He found me," Jamie said.

"And at what point did he reveal to you that he was hired to steal the leopard?"

How in the hell had she found that out? She'd told the others, of course, during the ride back to the plane from Caraquet. So that meant Abe, Jackson or Mitch had ratted Logan out. She wanted to believe it was anyone else, but she had a suspicion which of them had been her informant.

Allison was waiting for an answer, so Jamie gave her one. "I found some photographs in his bag."

"So, if you never found those he might have never told you the truth."

"Look, I know where you're going with this," Jamie was beginning to get annoyed with the inquisition. "And you're wrong."

"You can't possibly trust this guy," Allison appeared almost friendly in her warning, though there was a bite to her words that she couldn't hide. "I have to assume that you are smarter than that."

"You don't know anything about me," Jamie retorted, her annoyance quickly swelling to anger.

"Jamie Campbell," Allison tapped a key and turned her laptop. "Reporter for the _LA Telegraph_. Fired for defaming Reiden Global on your blog, _The Girl with the Genie Tattoo._ "

"Congratulations on your ability to Google," Jamie sneered.

"One would assume if you had any area of expertise, it would be to find fire where there is smoke."

"Was I skeptical of Logan?" Jamie asked. "Of course. But somewhere between him sharing stories about playing Moses in his school play and his onion allergy, he gained my trust. He's one of the good ones."

"The world is not and never has been divided between good ones and bad ones." Her tone was bordering on condescending now, and Jamie reacted badly.

"Let me tell you the worst thing that happened to me in those woods."

"Worse than losing your toe?" Allison quipped, but Jamie cut her off.

"I realized it wasn't the animals I had to be scared of. It was the people. There's no telling what they'll do. So, yeah," Jamie leaned forward, "in this world there are two kinds of people. The animals and the Logans. I trust him with my life."

"More than Mitch?" There it was. Jamie had been expecting it, but it still hit her harder than she'd thought it would. The urge to throw something came suddenly, but she wrestled it down and chose a different course of action.

Jamie stood up and placed both of her hands on the table. "My relationship with Mitch is none of your business. In fact, nothing about Mitch's life is any of your business any more. You made that decision twelve years ago." Allison seemed surprised that Jamie knew those details, and she pressed her advantage. "So let's get something clear right now. Your involvement with my friends, with this team, extends exactly as far as helping us stop the Noah Objective and Reiden Global. Whatever else is going on in your head, whatever else you have planned, forget about it. Now."

"You're threatened by me," Allison was grasping at straws now, though she did her best to appear unaffected.

Jamie pushed off the table and raised her eyebrows innocently. "We done?"

"Yeah," Allison nodded once. "We're done." Jamie imagined they were far from it, but she had nothing else to say to the older woman right now.

"Good talk," she knocked on the table twice then walked away. She kept her posture erect and confident until she was out of sight, not wanting to give up any of the ground she'd gained. Allison was smart, and she was definitely working an angle that Jamie couldn't quite figure out. Until she did, Jamie would be keeping a close eye on their new guest.

"How'd it go?" Logan was waiting in the bar, his drink already half-empty. Jamie poured one of her own and slid onto the barstool next to him.

"About like I expected," she shrugged. "She's on a witchhunt."

"And I'm the witch," Logan toasted.

Jamie laughed and clinked her glass against his. "Yeah, well, don't let her bully you. Just answer her questions as truthfully as you can and let me do the rest."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I do best," Jamie told him. "I'm gonna dig into our Deputy Secretary of Defense and see what pans out."

"Logan?" Allison's voice floated down the hall just before she appeared in the doorway, clearly annoyed at having to come looking for him. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Logan down the rest of his drink and set the glass on the bar. "Wish me luck," he mumbled at Jamie before turning to follow the other woman back to the lounge. Jamie drained her own glass before retreating to her room to begin a hunt of her own.

Her new phone rang ten minutes later, though it took Jamie a few seconds to realize what the sound was. Mitch's name flashed on the screen and she pressed the speaker button as she kept sifting through the information she'd gathered.

"Hey," she greeted. "How are things going?"

"Oh, you know," Mitch sounded a bit off, though Jamie suspected being a newly minted team leader on an incredibly dangerous mission wasn't exactly within his comfort zone. "Peachy. You?"

"Your stepmom is really charming," she drawled.

"I'm sure the two of you are bonding," he shot back. "Hey, I just wanted to update you. It seems our venom dealer isn't as benevolent as Allison originally claimed. He's not selling the jellyfish. He wants us to get something for him in exchange."

"What could he possibly want from us?" Jamie wondered.

"Wandering Spider venom," Mitch explained. "There's a nest at the old mall. Apparently the last team he sent didn't come back."

"Absolutely not," Jamie balked. "It's too dangerous."

"We need that jellyfish, Jamie."

"Can you send Dariela?"

"Jamie," Mitch warned. "This is the only way. We have antivenom, so if we get bitten we'll be fine. It shouldn't take us more than an hour to get there, collect a few spiders and get back to the plane."

"So if you'd already decided, why did you call me?" Jamie was trying to split her attention between Mitch's report and her search into Allison's past, and so hadn't really registered the belligerence in her tone.

"What's going on, Jamie?"

"Nothing," she countered. "Call me when you're done." She disconnected before he could protest, her eyes focused on the memo she'd just uncovered. She skimmed it once, saved it to her hard drive, and transferred the document to her tablet before diving back into the pile of data she'd gathered. She could worry about the team later; right now she needed to uncover every dark secret Allison Shaw wanted hidden.

Logan emerged from his interrogation unscathed, though there was something different about the way he looked at Jamie as she joined him at the bar. It unsettled her, but there were more important things to talk about right now.

"Is this for real?" Logan re-read the memo she'd uncovered as Jamie opened a bottle of water from the fridge. She was a little more at ease after the text she'd gotten from Mitch.

 _Have spiders. Everyone ok. See you soon._

Their victory combined with her find was enough to keep a smile on her face. "Yep."

"Wow," he breathed. "She's got a set on her, huh?"

Before Jamie could reply, Allison stepped through the door with her tablet in hand. Her lips were set in a frown, like a kid denied his ice cream before dinner.

"More questions?" Jamie asked.

"No," Allison shook her head. "Your stories check out."

Jamie was enjoying this a little too much. She grabbed the tablet out of Logan's hand and drew herself up. "Well, that's swell. While you were busy waterboarding Logan, I was checking out your story."

"My story?" Allison seemed genuinely confused. It was a good act - but not good enough.

Jamie turned the tablet around to show her the screen. "This is an internal memo you wrote to the President two months ago, in which you support bringing Reiden onboard the Noah Objective."

Allison's confusion turned to shock. "How did you find that?"

Jamie smiled proudly. " _Girl with the Genie Tattoo_ , remember?"

"It was before I knew the damage they'd cause," Allison explained. "I made a mistake. I've more than paid for it."

Jamie thought that was a lie, but didn't come out and say it. Instead, she set the tablet on the counter and turned fully toward the other woman. Behind her, she could feel Logan at her back. "Yeah, you're not sure you can trust us?" she snapped. "We're not sure we can trust you."

"What do you plan to do with this information?"

"Are you asking if I'm going to tell the team? You bet I am." And Jamie would take great pleasure in it, too.

"Now is not the time for petty in-fighting. We need to be united if we're going to -"

"Now it's 'we?'" Logan interrupted her. "Just a little while ago it was 'they.' Which is it? Are we a part of the team or not?"

Trying to regain some semblance of control, Allison leveled a glare at him. "Your position here is not dependent on me. Mitch is the leader of this team, and he will be the one you need to ask about staying." She sounded almost pleased with herself, and Jamie knew why. Left up to Mitch, there was little chance Logan would be sticking around for long. "Do what you want," she turned back to Jamie, "it won't change the fact that you need me and I need you. We're stuck with each other." She turned and strode out quickly, and so missed Jamie's parting shot.

"For now."

The team returned almost an hour later. The triumphant air Jamie had expected was absent, replaced instead by a somber silence as they piled out of the Hummer. Jackson was cradling his right hand tenderly, though he was trying to be discreet about it. There was a dark bruise forming on his knuckles and a small amount of blood seeping from tiny cuts there. Abe and Dariela disappeared to stow the weapons as Mitch emerged holding a small bowl of water.

Floating inside was a small jellyfish no bigger than a baseball. Jamie was underwhelmed.

"That tiny thing is the immortal jellyfish?"

"You were expecting something else?" Mitch raised his brow as he came up the steps.

"It just looks so...ordinary."

"This little guy is anything but," he told her. "Come on. I could use some help getting him set up in his tank."

"Do we have a tank for it?" Logan asked.

"Do you think I would have grabbed just him if I didn't?" Mitch countered. "Can you just...go help Jackson?"

Jamie frowned but said nothing about his dismissal. She actually wanted to speak with Mitch alone anyway, so when Logan glanced at her she just shrugged. He sighed but did as he was told, vanishing to the upper levels as Jamie followed Mitch to the lab. Once there, Mitch went about transferring the small jellyfish to its new home. She came up on his left side and noticed for the first time the angry red fang marks on his neck.

"You've been bitten!" She reached out unconsciously and he shied away.

"It's fine," he told her. "We all had antivenom. Can you hold this?" he handed her the bowl that was now full of just water. He moved away to grab some equipment, his movements stiff and slow.

"You're not fine," she pointed out.

"I will be," he amended. "I just need to get this guy settled then I can go grab a hot shower." He returned with a few different devices and gestured for her to set the bowl on the table. "I need to test the water he was in to make sure his new home matches."

"My uncle did that once when he bought me a new fish for my fish tank," Jamie watched him carefully pull some water into a dropper and squirt it into the small machine. "He just used a pH strip, though."

Mitch smiled but didn't reply. His head was pitched forward, his eyes monitoring the whir of the machine over the rim of his glasses. When it beeped he checked the results and nodded.

"We're good," he announced. "Temperature, pH, and saline levels are within parameters."

Jamie turned her head to look at the little guy happily floating in his new tank. The blue light Mitch had added to the tank gave the translucent creature an almost ethereal glow, and for a moment Jamie was mesmerized by the undulation of its tentacles.

"What you are gonna call him?" she asked.

"Not sure yet," he said. "I'm gonna need to get a DNA sample from him, see which piece of the puzzle he fits into."

"Okay," Jamie grabbed his arm and turned him around. "But first you need to take care of yourself."

"Jamie, I feel fine," he protested, but she just marched him toward the stairs.

"You were bitten by a venomous spider - the most venomous spider in the world." She'd done her homework on their deadly target after she'd dug up everything she could on Allison. The things she'd read had made her uneasy about their mission; even more so now that she knew he'd been bitten.

"To be fair, those qualifications are completely subjective," he argued as she pushed him up to the upper levels. "The potential deadliness of a venom depends entirely on the amount injected into the victim. The published study actually used mice to measure -"

"Save the science lesson for your class, professor. You grab a shower, I'll find something for you to eat." She left him at his door and waited until she heard the water start before she made her way to the kitchen. She found the makings for sandwiches, wrinkled her nose at the vegetarian turkey slices, and made them anyway. By the time she got back to Mitch's room with the plate, a bag of chips and two sodas he was out of the shower.

"Come in," he called when she tapped the plate against the door.

"Hands full," she told him. There were quick footsteps before the panel slid back to reveal Mitch standing in nothing but a towel. "Uh, hi." He wasn't built like any of the models she'd seen in magazines. His arms and shoulders were toned, but he had love handles and a slightly round belly. And his skin was the palest white she'd ever seen on a man who'd been living in L.A. for years. Still, she felt a flush in her neck and cheeks at his semi-naked appearance and cursed her fair skin that displayed it. Mitch smirked at her reaction but said nothing. He reached for the plate and the sodas, leaving her standing in the doorway with the bag of chips.

"Jamie?" Mitch turned with an inquisitive stare. She stepped in and slid the door closed behind her, moving to the bed as Mitch disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back out he was wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt.

"What have we got?" he asked her as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

"Turkey sandwiches," she told him quickly. "At least, whatever the hell you've got that passes for turkey in there."

Mitch chuckled and bit into the sandwich, grimacing only slightly. "Yeah, Abe got that turkey substitute the last time we went out for supplies. Enough mustard and you can't really tell the difference." He took another bite then reached for the chips. He was hungry, she noted, and he devoured two sandwiches and half the chips before he slowed. The bite mark on his neck was still swollen and red, but it didn't seem to be bothering him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Her gaze shifted from the bite marks to his eyes. She could always see the truth in his eyes.

"I'm okay, Jamie," he promised. "It hurt like hell, but the antivenom worked."

"Okay." She let it drop, but made a mental note to keep an eye on him for a few hours. Just in case. "Listen, there's something I need to talk to you about. It's about Allison."

"How did that go today, by the way?" He eyed the other half of her sandwich hungrily, and when she offered it he didn't hesitate.

"Oh, it went swimmingly." Jamie's mood soured just thinking about it. "She all but accused Logan of being a criminal." At Mitch's pointed look she scoffed. "Don't start, Mitch. He's trying to do the right thing."

Mitch swallowed his bite before he spoke. "It's not his actions I'm worried about. It's his motives."

"We've already talked about this," she argued. "It's a non-issue. Plus, Allison Shaw isn't without her skeletons, either." She grabbed her phone and pulled up the memo for him to see. "She voted for Reiden's initial involvement. She was part of the team that brought them onto the Noah Objective in the first place."

Mitch's eyes were dark as he quickly read the document. "What did she have to say?"

"She said that she didn't know how much damage they'd cause and that she'd more than made up for any mistakes she'd made." Mitch snorted scornfully. "We can't trust her, Mitch."

"Oh, I don't trust her," he said. "As a matter of fact, that list is dwindling by the day." He crunched another chip thoughtfully, then hummed in triumph. "Moe. I'm gonna call him Moe."

"Who?"

"The jellyfish. I'm gonna name him after my grandfather."

Jamie smiled at his childlike glee. "I'm sure he'd be honored. I'm gonna go grab a drink from the bar," she stood and gathered the empty plate and soda cans. "Want anything?"

"No," he stood as well and folded the half-empty chip bag over itself. "I should get back to the lab and start working on the triple-helix again. Thanks for the snack."

"Snack?" she laughed. "You ate two and a half sandwiches and half a bag of chips."

"You grew up with four boys," he teased. "You know how we eat." He walked with her as far as the bar, leaving her with a quick squeeze on her arm and a promise to check in when he was done. Jamie stooped down to access the mini fridge and dug out the vodka. Luckily Mitch had showed here where he stocked the good stuff. She poured herself half a glass and settled on a stool. It didn't take long for someone else to join her, though it was probably the one person other than Allison she wanted to avoid.

"Hey," Dariela tested. When Jamie didn't say anything in return she sighed. "You can't still be made at me. I mean, you're the one who hit me first." She walked over with one hand in her pocket. "Besides," she continued, "I come in peace." She pulled her hand out and held it toward Jamie expectantly. In it was a small plastic egg, one she recognized from her childhood. "Put it in your shoe," Dariela explained as Jamie took the gift. "It'll help with weight distribution, balance."

Jamie hadn't even thought of doing something like that, and even if she had she wasn't sure Silly Putty would have been on her list of possible remedies. Her manners got the best of her and she gave the woman a flat smile. "Thanks." She looked down at the egg, then back up at Dariela. "Army Ranger trick?"

"Catholic school," she smiled. "Florence O'Shea. Lawn mower accident. Kids used to call her 'No Toe Flo.'" Her short, clipped delivery drove home for Jamie just how different their pasts were. Dariela's Army training had afforded her no time for small talk, no time for delays or hesitations. She had to make decisions quickly, decisions that affected the lives of people around her, sometimes people she cared about. Jamie imagined there were far worse things on Dariela's conscience than Chloe's death.

She opened her mouth to say something - not an apology, because Jamie wasn't sorry for what she'd done. But Darela wasn't finished. "Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot." It was a joke in poor taste, and Jamie's halfhearted glare told her so. "So to speak," Dariela smirked. "But I hope you can understand I'm part of the team. You don't have to like me, but you have to know you can trust me."

Trying to sound more generous than she felt, Jamie nodded."Yeah, well, you can trust me, too. I'm loyal to a fault."

"I can see that," Dariela nodded. "For what it's worth, I believe you about Logan. He seems like good people." That was surprising, and Jamie was stunned into silence. Luckily, Dariela filled it. "I think it'll be good for you if he sticks around. It helps to have someone who's been through what you've been through."

She walked away then, and only when she was out of her eyeline did Jamie finally find her voice. "Catholic School?" It wasn't an apology - or even a hand of friendship - but it was a start.

"No, that was Army Rangers." Her tone told Jamie she understood what she was trying to do and accepted the gesture.

"Oorah," Jamie intoned.

"That's Marines," Jamie could hear her smile now. "But I appreciate the thought." Her footsteps faded away, leaving Jamie alone once more. She finished her vodka, then poured another. Once that one was gone she stood to deposit her glass. The alcohol rushed to her head and she swayed, stepping back instinctively on her bad foot to catch her balance.

"Son of a bitch!" Jamie grabbed the bar and clenched her teeth against the agony, willing the pain to subside. Once it had, she sat on the stool again and propped her right ankle over her left knee.

It took a few tries, but eventually she found the right combination of shape and mass for the putty. She'd made the area nearest her foot concave and smooth, so her healing wound wouldn't rub against it. It didn't feel quite as right as actually having her toe back, but it did help. She made a mental note to tell Mitch to thank Dariela for her later.

She ran into Logan on her way back to the living quarters. She couldn't quite tell, but he seemed happy.

"I am," he told her when she called him on it. "I just talked to Mitch. He said I could stay."

"He did?" That was more than surprising. That was a miracle.

"He did," Logan confirmed. "He's...well, he's not what I expected. But he's a good guy."

"He is," Jamie couldn't help the smile that stretched her face. "Guess that means you're moving out of the common room?" He'd been camping on one of the long sofas there, and by mutual agreement the others had refrained from hanging out there during their down time.

"No rooms," Logan shrugged. "But Mitch said there's a small storage space down by the vehicle bay that I could use if I clean it out. There even might be a cot for me."

"We'll figure something out," Jamie promised. She hated to think of her friend stuck all alone down in the bowels of the plane. Really, they had all this space and only five bedrooms? She needed to talk to Mitch.

She found him in the lab and made a mental note to set a reminder on the computer for him to look up from the microscopes every few hours. Since it was well before bedtime, his music was blaring from a set of speakers near the computer. Jamie winced against the whine of a dissonant guitar and reached out to turn it down.

"That's sacrilegious," Mitch told her without looking up from his work. "Chris Cornell is a god."

"If you say so," she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Just passed Logan in the hall." Mitch just hummed ambiguously. "He said you told him he could stay."

"I did."

When Mitch didn't elaborate, Jamie reached out to set her hand on his shoulder. When he straightened, she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "Thank you."

His arms came around her waist and held her tightly. "You're welcome," he chuckled. "Just, don't expect me to be best friends with the guy."

She leaned back but left her arms around his shoulders. "I can live with that." Her eyes moved to the monitor in front of him. "What are you working on?"

He perked up smugly and tapped a few sequences, clearing everything on the screen except for a sequence of letters and numbers that meant nothing to her. "This," he told her, "is The Ghost Gene."

"What's a ghost gene?"

"An excellent question," he tapped a few more keys and took a breath, no doubt to launch into some long-winded explanation that she'd only understand a tenth of.

"Never mind," she shifted her weight to her good foot and patted his shoulder. "I'm sure whatever it is, you've got things under control here."

Mitch was crestfallen, but his attention was quickly caught by something else. "Hey, you're moving better."

"Huh?" Jamie looked down. "Oh, yeah. Dariela gave me silly putty."

She expected to have to explain, but he just rolled his eyes like that was the most obvious thing in the world. "To help with balance and weight distribution. Smart. I should have thought of it."

"Yeah, well, this may come as a shock to you," she smirked, "but you're not actually perfect."

He smiled as he recognized his own words, and he reached out to tug her to him again. "I'm not?" She let him pull her down for a kiss, then another. Jamie shifted to get closer, to let the warmth of their connection flood her entire body, but in doing so she miscalculated how her right foot needed to turn and she ended up ramming it into the table leg. She broke the kiss with a curse through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry," Mitch said immediately. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she bit back. "Just give me a minute."

"I can get some painkillers," he offered. "Or an ice pack."

"I'm fine!" she shouted. He had promised to give her space when she needed it; she'd wondered how long he'd be able to keep his distance before his overbearing nature took over again. "I'm gonna go lay down," she told him finally. "Good luck with the ghost gene."

She heard the loud drums and hard chords of his music turn back on as she limped up the stairs, and Jamie tried not to feel disappointed that he hadn't followed her. _You yelled at him, Jamie. What did you think he was going to do?_

As she slipped under the sheets that had once belonged to Chloe, Jamie tried not to think about the nightmare that had woken her that morning. The image of light pouring out of her body was not one she wanted to dwell on for long. She knew what it meant. She just hoped that particular dream never came true.


	20. Jamie's Got a Gun - More Than Words

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 20: Jamie's Got a Gun - More Than Words

 _Mitch struggles to make sense of the ghost gene and realizes Jackson may hold the key to unlocking it. Meanwhile, his relationship with Jamie takes an unexpected turn._

* * *

A scream jolted him from a dead sleep, and Mitch's legs tangled in the bed sheets as he scrambled to his feet. His fingers fumbled for his glasses even as he dashed past his nightstand toward the door. Jackson and Abe were already stumbling blearily out of their rooms, and Mitch's heart dropped as he realized the scream had come from Jamie's room.

For a split second he forgot how the doors worked. He slammed into the wood panel and cursed loudly, slapping his hand against it even as Abe reached over his shoulder and slid it back.

"Jamie?" Mitch pushed through first followed closely by Abe and Jackson. At nearly three in the morning they had all forgotten the odds of an intruder were next to zero thanks to the plane's security measures. Jamie was sitting up in her bed amid a mountain of blankets, her hair matted with sweat and hanging limply around her face as she struggled to catch a breath. Her features were pale against the soft glow from the bathroom, the door pulled half-closed to allow a sliver of light to filter into the room.

Upon seeing there was no immediate threat, Jackson and Abe lingered at the door as Mitch made his way to the bed. She was shivering violently and made no indication that she noticed his presence. He placed one knee on the bed slowly, letting it take his weight as he reached for her.

"Jamie?" he tried again. She sniffled loudly but refused to meet his eyes. He glanced back at the other two. "It's alright. Go back to bed." Jackson nodded once, hesitating only a moment before Abe pushed him gently out the door. They slid the door closed behind them and left Mitch alone with Jamie and her demons.

"It's alright," he whispered in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "You're safe now. It's alright." Her breathing had picked back up, and he moved his hand from her shoulder to her knee. "Breathe, Jamie." She was starting to worry him.

It had been four days since their Portugal adventure, and with the Hurricane Paula still hanging out in the Atlantic none of them had protested when Trotter suggested they wait until it dissipated or moved further away from the mainland. Mitch kept odd hours in the lab and often saw Jamie wandering about the plane early in the morning or late at night. He knew she had nightmares - a few nights ago he'd seen her wake with a wild, desperate look in her eyes that faded too slowly for his liking. But she had never woken them up screaming.

Her ragged breaths were coming shorter and shorter as her thoughts spiraled away, and Mitch shifted around to sit alongside her. His arm wrapped across her shoulders as he pulled her against him. She fought feebly - probably out of instinct rather than any sort of conscious recognition - but he held firm. Mitch lifted his chin to let her ear fall against his chest as he spoke softly.

"Breathe, Jamie. Come on." He exaggerated his own slow breaths, hoping she would feel his chest rising and falling and match her breathing to his. "Whatever it is, you're safe now. We've got you, Jamie."

Her hand moved from her lap to his chest, her fingers clutching his grey night shirt in a vice-like grip. It was the first time she had moved since his arrival and it broke his heart. She was fighting for breath now, and he kept his voice steady and low as he talked her through the panic attack. Gradually her breaths slowed to match his own and he felt the front of his shirt soak through with her tears. His own stung his eyes as he realized she was weeping silently, trapped with demons she'd been fighting alone ever since she'd returned.

She trembled against him, almost imperceptible at first but in the matter of seconds her entire body was shaking. Mitch moved quickly, slipping away from her to wrap her in one of the six blankets she kept on her bed.

"Jamie?" Her eyes were glazed and unfocused as he tried to pull her out of her thoughts.

"C-c-cold," she stammered quietly. He rubbed her shoulder vigorously as he silently wondered how many times she'd had to face this alone. Her lips were still quivering as she clutched the blanket tighter around herself, leaning forward to take advantage of Mitch's body heat. He obliged willingly, pressing his lips to her head as he laid down and pulled her into his arms.

He wished he was better at this. For all of his knowledge, he was still woefully inadequate when it came to handling emotional moments like this. He floundered for something - anything - that would help. She was still shaking, plagued by a cold that would likely never leave her. She needed to focus on something else, to get her mind off of whatever had caused to her wake screaming and shivering.

"I know it doesn't seem like it right now," he rubbed her arms to give her some warmth and comfort, "but things are going to get better. We're going to find the cure and save the world, and then you and me are going to take a vacation. Somewhere far away from animals and planes and people." She was listening now, and he sighed in relief as her shivers seemed to abate along with her breathing troubles. "We'll get there, Jamie."

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost meek, and Mitch couldn't believe it had come from her. "How?"

"One day at a time," he answered. "I meant what I said, Jamie. You need time. And...I think this helps." He rubbed her shoulder. "Talking about it, I mean. Keeping it to yourself only forces your subconscious to deal with it the only way it knows how."

"Nightmares," she sighed.

"You wanna talk about the one you just had?" She tensed in his arms and for a moment he thought she would push away. "It's perfectly normal, Jamie. No one could go through what you did and not come out on the other side with a few scars. And I know I'm the very last person to be lecturing you on this, but it's okay to ask for help when you need it." She relaxed back into him, but he could practically hear her mind working.

When she did speak, her voice was nearly a whisper. "I was back in Caraquet," she told him. "They had voted to sacrifice us to the animals, only this time you didn't come." He tightened his hold but forced himself to stay quiet. She needed to get it out. "They threw us out there. But before they could close the gates something happened. An explosion? I don't know. But then suddenly the bears came, half a dozen at least. And they just started killing everyone."

Mitch could easily picture the scene she painted with her words. Had they gone to Allison's orchards first, it was likely the scenario they would have encountered. Just imagining it - arriving to finally reunite with her only to be greeted with her mauled, lifeless body - made him nauseous.

"I can understand how that would upsetting," he forced himself to stay calm rather than give in to the irrational panic his imagination had spurred in him. "But it didn't happen. We got to you in time, and they can't hurt anyone else."

"That wasn't the worst part," she shook her head against his chest. "Gwen…" she choked. "She tried to run, but I held her there. I watched as the bears came and tore her apart. I killed her."

"Jamie," he couldn't stand the guilt in her voice for something she had never even done. He shifted enough that she sat up, and he repositioned them so they were lying side by side. She was wrapped from shoulders to toes in her blanket and he let his hand sift through her sweat-soaked hair gently. "What is it that's upsetting you?"

She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. Whatever it was, it was enough to cause this strong, fierce, spirited woman to tremble like a child his arms. He remembered his promise not to crowd her and sighed. As much as he wanted her to talk to him, to let him help sort out the dark puzzle in her head, he knew pushing now would only start a fight. It took every ounce of his willpower to instead lean forward and press a long kiss to her forehead.

"Okay," he said. "You think you can get back to sleep?" He moved to extract himself from the blankets, but her hand shot out to clutch at the sleeve of his t-shirt.

"Stay," she blurted suddenly. "Please...stay."

"Alright," he adjusted the blankets enough to slip under one of them, draping the end over her already covered form. She scooted closer to him, tucking her body against his as he slid an arm under her. She loosened her blanket enough to let her arm lay across his chest, and when her fingers caressed his cheek he didn't resist the urge to turn his head and kiss them.

He stayed awake until he heard her breathing even out, and then forced himself to keep his eyes open until he was sure she was sleeping peacefully. Confident that her mind seemed to be leaving her alone for the moment, he let himself drift off into a light doze.

He woke up alone. A glance at the bedside clock surprised him; it had been a long time since he'd slept past ten and he groaned tiredly. Footsteps replied, and Jamie appeared in the bathroom door. She looked better, more rested, and the smile she gave him was dazzling.

"Good morning," she greeted. He just nodded and rubbed tiredly at his face. Jamie laughed. "Not a morning person?" He grunted in reply. "Must be all of those late nights in the lab."

Mitch hesitated to stand, waiting until the last effects of sleep faded. Seeing Jamie in his robe, toothbrush in hand and her hair wild from sleep did nothing to help his situation. She was smiling a little too innocently, he noticed, and when he caught her eye there was a slight flush in her cheeks.

This was not good. She still had some healing to do, and with everything that had happened recently he needed to be in a better place mentally before they added that complication to their relationship. He closed his eyes and forced himself to think of something else. It didn't work.

"Mitch?" Her voice was quieter now, and he knew she'd worked out his dilemma.

"Sorry," he breathed.

"No," she was closer now, and when he opened his eyes she was standing next to the bed. "It's...it's fine. I just," she faltered for a moment, and her eyes inadvertently cut away from his face to somewhere lower. Then they snapped back up to his and the flush in her cheeks grew. Her voice was richer when she spoke, tinged with a desire he'd seen a few times since they'd begun. "Tell me you haven't thought about it."

He finally laughed, the breath passing his lips in a rush as the corner of his mouth kicked up. "More times than is probably appropriate to admit," he told her. "But right now, with everything that's going on…"

"I know," she agreed, though it sounded like she didn't really believe it. "But we've already lost each other once. That plane crash didn't kill us, but it could have. Either of us - both of us - could be gone today, or tomorrow." She licked her lips and Mitch tried his best to not stare. He failed. "If something happened and we never...I'd regret that for the rest of my life."

He was already moving when she started to lean forward, and his hands came up to frame her face as he met her halfway in a searing kiss. Her weight was warm as she rolled into him, her movements careful but sure. He had to break the kiss to let her settle without jarring her foot too much, and eventually he just sat up as she laid back onto the pillows. Her fingers grasped at him and he answered, covering her with his body as he placed open-mouthed kisses to her neck. He used his right arm to keep most of his weight off of her, leaving his left free to roam across her curves. His fingers dug into her hip as his mouth found hers again, and the mewl that slipped from was intoxicating. It took a few tries, but he eventually found the right combination of touches and kisses that elicited the noise again.

"Mitch?"

Both of them froze at Allison's voice. She sounded distant, like she was down the hall rather than right outside; Mitch guessed she had knocked on his door first. Beneath him Jamie squirmed and Mitch slammed his eyes closed as his body responded. She did it again, and when he finally looked at her she was smirking. _Minx_.

But Allison was persistent. "Mitch, are you in there? We've got new information we need to go over."

Jamie groaned again, only this time it was in irritation. She pushed at Mitch's shoulder and stood when he obliged. He realized too late what she was doing.

"Jamie!"

She marched to the door and threw it open, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed. His robe was hanging off of one shoulder and her hair was disheveled. There was no mistaking what Allison had interrupted.

"Where's Mitch?" He couldn't see Allison's face, but he understood her tone. She was not happy.

"Busy," was all Jamie replied, and Mitch stifled his laughter. Allison would be fuming now.

"Well, I need him."

Mitch scrambled to his feet in an effort to keep Jamie from uttering something completely inappropriate. He kept his body behind hers out of propriety, but he might have crowded her a little more closely than was necessary. Allison was livid. She opened her mouth to say something, but Mitch just reached over Jamie and slid the door closed.

"Be out in a minute," he said, leaving Allison standing in the hall alone.

Jamie turned but didn't try to move away from him. "Mood killer, huh?"

Mitch chuckled and lowered his lips to her exposed shoulder. He heard her sudden gasp and smiled against her skin. "Raincheck?"

"Absolutely," she breathed. Mitch kissed her again, lingering a little longer than he should have. When he pulled away, Jamie patted his chest. "I'll hold off the hounds for a while. You grab a shower."

She stepped away and made a grab for the jeans she'd discarded last night. She grabbed a pair of cotton panties from a drawer and began to dress. Mitch watched her pull them on underneath the robe and groaned at the implication. _Damn you, Allison_. He retreated into the bathroom before his libido could convince him to ignore his obligations and finish what they'd started.

He didn't remember he was in Jamie's bathroom until he went to grab for his towel and came away empty. Hers was lying on the counter and he wrapped it around his waist before making a mad dash to his room. If one of the others saw him he'd never live it down, but thankfully they all seemed to be up and out for the day. He dressed quickly and made a stop by the kitchen for a banana before making his way to the lab.

Allison was tapping her foot impatiently when he arrived. She had a stack of folders in her hand and even though her head was bent over the open file at the top, Mitch knew she wasn't really reading it. For half a second he felt guilty, then he remembered who he was dealing with and the guilt faded.

"Sorry," he said with no real feeling. "Guess I was more tired than I realized."

Allison's fury hadn't faded, and when she looked up Mitch braced himself. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how bad an idea this is?"

He knew exactly what she meant. He also didn't give a rat's ass what she thought. He took a bite out of his banana and held it up innocently. "It's all we had. We need to go shopping."

"Mitch -"

"Do we need to revisit the reason you're not exactly the best person to be giving me relationship advice?" He didn't bother to hide the contempt in his voice, and she recoiled from the verbal blow.

"Jamie is unstable," Allison recovered quickly. "We both agreed she's a liability."

"No," Mitch forced himself to keep a civil tongue in the face of her attempt to twist the truth. "We agreed she's hurting."

"So what?" Allison's professionalism melted away, leaving a bitter ex in its wake. "You're gonna kiss her boo boos to make it better? She's a wild card." Then, realizing her slip, she tried to backtrack to the mission at hand. "Davies is looking for any opening to destroy what we're doing here. You cannot let her open that window."

"She won't," Mitch promised. "She just needs time."

"How much time?"

"You know," Mitch turned and tossed his now empty peel at a nearby trash can. He missed. "If she hadn't snuck into my zoo squawking about Reiden and a bunch of lions, I wouldn't even be here."

Allison shrugged. "So? What does that mean?"

"It means she gets as much time as she needs," Mitch leaned down and moved the peel into the can, then straightened to his full height. The resolute look he leveled at Allison drove home his next words. "And I'm done talking about it."

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but Mitch just turned his back and moved toward his computer. Allison followed with her stack of files, and when he sat down so did she.

"I sent your findings from the jellyfish -"

"Moe," Mitch corrected.

She ignored him. "- to my people in Washington. They found evidence that it was exposed to radiation. Guess when?"

"1895?" Mitch played along. "Do they know how?"

"They do." She tapped the top folder then slid it to him.

Mitch opened the file and perused the information that had been gathered by Allison's "people." It was a slipshod effort at research, but it gave him enough of a head start that the gaps wouldn't be hard to fill. When he was done reading, he glanced up at her.

"So this guy, Pierce, irradiated a bunch of animals, and now their descendants are wreaking havoc. That is...almost hard to believe."

"If we weren't living it," Allison agreed. "We need to find Pierce's notes. We've found the town where he settled after his grifting days to continue his research. I want the team to search his house and estate for anything that can help us."

"Alright," Mitch could see the merit in the idea. "Let me get the team."

"Not yet," Allison stood. "You'll need to put together a briefing first."

"I hate public speaking," Mitch grumbled.

"Weren't you a teacher?" Allison questioned. Then, without waiting for a reply, she patted his shoulder. "Trotter's already preparing for take off. We'll be in England in a few hours. You can have something ready by then?"

Mitch just nodded and reached for the files. If he was briefing the team, he had a lot of homework to do beforehand. Allison thankfully left moments later, and Mitch dove into the material with all the gusto of a college senior at the end of his last semester.

He came up for air two hours later when Jamie and Logan arrived in the lab bearing food. Logan had apparently used whatever was left in their fridge to cobble together an odd salad using the last of the turkey substitute. He'd even crafted a dressing from the condiments they had stashed in the cupboards, and as Jamie set the bowl in front of him she was smiling.

"Time to take a break, professor," she held out a fork for him.

"What is all this?" Logan glanced at the information over Mitch's shoulder but stopped when he noticed the other man's glare.

"This," Mitch took the fork and stabbed at a mound of lettuce, "is our next mission." He took a hesitant bite, and when he didn't gag he took another.

"Leonard Pierce?" Jamie read aloud. "Who's he?"

"The apparent cause of all of our problems," Mitch answered. "Here." He tapped a few keys and brought up the article he'd found. "Unfortunately, while I can find a link between him and all of the animals with the Phase 2 mutation, I can't find a link between him and Kovacs."

Logan looked confused. "Is there one?"

"There has to be," Mitch said. "There's a specific gene that makes any animal - humans included - susceptible to the mutation. No gene, no mutation. Kovacs had to have it."

"So does Jackson," Jamie inferred.

Mitch jabbed his fork slightly in emphasis. "Correct."

"But do we need to know _how_ Kovacs got the gene?" Logan asked. "Isn't enough to just know he had it?"

"Well, knowing for certain that Kovacs' ancestors got the gene from Pierce's experiments would reasonably exclude any other possibility." Mitch was surprised at his own civility toward the other man, but he didn't have time to dwell on it now. "The problem is finding that connection."

"Can I try?" Jamie asked. "I mean, information gathering is sort of my wheelhouse."

"Yeah," Mitch happily pushed his chair away from the computer and stood up. He grabbed his salad and the bottle of water Jamie had brought for him and stepped away as she took his place. She looked almost giddy to be working again and Mitch made a mental note to give her more stuff to do. Maybe working was the key to restoring her equilibrium.

He had forgotten how good she was at this. It was almost impossible to keep up with the rate at which she opened searches, clicked pages, highlighted sections and followed leads. She used resources he hadn't even known existed, and in less than half an hour she had a complete genealogy of Kovacs' entire family.

"You are amazing," Mitch kissed her head and hit print. He reached for the timeline Allison had brought and spread it out. "Okay, now we just need to find anywhere that Kovacs' family tree overlaps with Pierce's travels."

It took almost ten minutes, but finally they found it. Or Logan did. Mitch was excited enough to discover the connection that he didn't even care. "Okay, good. Now all we have to do is find Pierce's notes and maybe we can get out ahead of this thing."

"Where are we going?" Jamie glanced out of the windows at the gray clouds that surrounded them.

"Go grab the others and we'll brief everyone at once." She shot him a look that told him exactly what she thought about him giving orders, then strode out of the room with Logan at her heels.

The team meeting went better than Mitch had anticipated. Trotter announced their landing just a few minutes before they split, and Mitch followed Jamie and Logan to the jumpseats by the door. They were outfitted with five point harnesses in addition to the seat belts; Mitch hoped they never needed them.

"He's good," Logan commented on Trotter's smooth landing. "Almost don't need to strap in."

"Yeah, it's almost like he's a real pilot," Mitch snarked, unbuckling quickly. "Time to get to work."

"Mitch?" Jamie grabbed his sleeve as Logan disappeared through the door. He stopped and turned, unsurprised at the determined look she was giving him. "I want to go with the team to Holbeach tomorrow."

"Jamie," Mitch hesitated. "It's only been a few days. Are you sure you're ready for that?" Even though getting her back into the swing of things had been his initial plan, something in him resisted sending her out so soon. What if something happened? What if they needed to run and she got left behind again. What if -

"I can't just sit inside the plane while the others do all the work," she argued. "I need to be helping."

"I know," he swallowed thickly and tried to shove his own personal feelings aside. The more eyes they had in Holbeach the better their chances were. And no one was better at uncovering information than Jamie. Mitch knew as their leader he needed to do what was best for the team. And for her.

"Alright," he conceded. "I'm not terribly keen on leaving you here with Allison anyway."

"I'll go tell Logan to get ready," Jamie bounded away before he could tell her that her little hanger-on wasn't actually invited. He went to follow her but Allison came out of the opposite door and pinned him with a hard stare.

"There you are," she called. "I need to go over a few things with you," she demanded. Mitch debated walking out anyway, but decided the headache wasn't worth it. With a sigh he resigned himself to an evening of stilted conversation and barely concealed condescension.

He was surprised when she led him to the bar rather than the lounge she'd co-opted for the duration of her stay. He agreed when she asked for a drink, and she slid onto one of the barstools as Mitch reached for the whiskey beneath the counter. Warning bells were ringing in his ears, and as he passed a tumbler to her she smiled coyly. _This is not good._

"Johnnie Walker?" she quirked an eyebrow. "I remember you as a Jameson man."

Mitch capped the bottle and stowed it away with more force than was really necessary. The entire shelf rattled as he closed the cabinet door. "Allison, what the hell are you doing?"

"Having a drink with a co-worker," she replied simply, but Mitch knew better. Nothing was simple where Allison Shaw was concerned.

"Whatever is going on in that twisted politician's brain you've got, just forget it. Okay?" He tossed back the finger of whiskey he'd poured for himself and tried not to think about what might be going through her mind right now.

"I'm not sure what you're insinuating," she responded defensively. "Everyone seems to think I have ulterior motives."

"Your ulterior motives have ulterior motives," Mitch shot back. He wondered who else she'd been talking to, but he could guess. "Listen, if you don't have any work to discuss, I think it's bedtime."

"Really?" she laughed. "If the Mitch I once knew heard you say that, he would call you a -" she stopped at his pointed look and corrected herself. "He'd be very disappointed."

He knew which Mitch she was referring to. That Mitch had been cocky and arrogant, the smartest intern at Georgetown and he knew it. The attending doctors all admired his skill and knowledge, and though he hadn't quite gotten the hang of dealing with the families he was sure he'd figure it out. Allison had been a junior staffer then with ambition, and they'd met at a party through mutual acquaintances. Their initial meeting had been electrifying, and Mitch had grown to genuinely cared about her. Enough to take her with him when his father invited him to a gala hosted by the museum he was working for.

He shook himself from the memories before they led him down a darker path. When his eyes refocused on her, Allison was still smiling enticingly. "One more drink," she goaded. "I'll show you where I hide the good stuff."

"Enough," he growled. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, but you need to stop."

"Oh come on, Mitch," she stood up and slipped around the bar to stand inches from him. "We both know this thing with Jamie is the result of your close proximity in a dangerous situation. If she hadn't found you, the next available veterinary pathologist would have done." She reached for him then, and Mitch jumped back like she'd struck him.

"Whoa," Dariela came to a stop just inside the door, her face a mixture of surprise at interrupting and panic from whatever had driven her to burst in. "We have a problem," she huffed. Then, with a pointed look at the two of them she added, "Well, a few problems maybe." Mitch just glared as she continued. "Jackson just took off in one of the trucks."

Mitch shot away from Allison quickly, glad to have an excuse to get away from her. She moved to follow but a hard glare from him had her redirecting her path toward the lounge.

"What was that?" Dariela asked as Mitch followed her to the vehicle bay.

"That was none of your business," he replied shortly. Thankfully she seemed to sense his dark mood and let it drop. Abe had already grabbed Jamie and Logan and the three of them were piling into the Hummer as Dariela and Mitch came through the door.

"Do we know which way he went?" Mitch asked.

"That way," Abe pointed off into the distance, though with the sun going down it was hard to see more than a few hundred yards. Trotter had landed them at a remote, barely used airfield that he claimed had once been used by British bombers in the 40s. The plus side was they were far away from anything anyone would consider civilization. The downside was that now Jackson was lost somewhere in the back woods of England. And he was still mobile.

"Do the trucks have trackers?" Jamie asked as Mitch slipped into the backseat with her and Logan. Dariela took shotgun as Abe shifted into reverse and backed them down the ramp.

"No," Mitch shook his head. "At least I don't think they do."

"How the hell are we supposed to find him out here?" Logan asked.

"He wasn't in his right mind," Abe was trying to make it better. He wasn't succeeding. "In his state, I doubt the signs of his travel will be hard to spot."

True to his word, they found a set of fresh tire tracks that veered off the main road and onto a dirt path. Abe had to slow down to keep from jostling everyone too much, as well as follow the tracks in the headlights.

After almost an hour of searching, they still hadn't found him. "What's wrong with him?" Jamie wondered aloud.

"It's the ghost gene," Mitch explained. "The mutation is causing these moments of...I don't know, dementia? Delusions? All I know is the last time this happened he nearly beat a man to death."

Logan leaned forward in seat. "Whoa, he what?"

"In Lisbon," Dariela shot over her shoulder. "Jackson went crazy on this guy who wanted to take us to Davies. Beat the guy bloody."

"He's not himself," Abe sounded almost apologetic. "It's the mutation causing this behavior in him."

"So when we find him…" Jamie faltered, but it was clear what the rest of her question was. Mitch just didn't know how to answer her.

"I don't know," he told her honestly, then pointed at Dariela. "But I'm gonna let the one with the gun go first."

"Just let me talk to him," Abe pleaded. "I got through to him before. I can do it again."

Abe got his chance about half an hour later. They zigzagged back and forth through the trees and fields until they saw headlights in the distance. When the crested the hill, Jackson was about waist deep in a hole he was still digging. His face was streaked with dirt and sweat, and he didn't even seem to register when Abe parked the Hummer next to the truck and stepped out.

He kept shoveling as the team stepped out, and when Mitch called his name Abe held out a hand firmly.

"Stay back," he told them. "Let me handle this."

Mitch was willing to let him try, but he didn't stop Dariela from drawing a bead with her rifle in case things went south.

"Jackson," Abe made sure his friend could hear him as he drew near. "What are you doing?"

"Huh?" Jackson finally looked up, his eyes wide and wild. "We have to bury Chloe." He went back to his digging, tossing shovelfuls of dirt haphazardly around him. The mood suddenly shifted, and Dariela lowered her weapon. Behind him, Mitch could hear Jamie's sudden gasp and he reached for her hand.

Abe jumped down into the hole with Jackson and whispered his name. Over the hum of the engine, Mitch heard him try to reason with his raving friend. "We sent her body back to France," he said. "Her family's going to bury her." Jackson shook his head sharply, and Abe reached out to grip his shoulders firmly. "Remember, _rafiki_!" Jackson was still muttering the same thing, and Abe looked helpless. "Come back to me."

Suddenly Jackson's demeanor shifted, and when he lifted his head the madness in his eyes was brighter. "All Good Children Are Growing Teeth," he mumbled.

"What?"

Jackson repeated it and Mitch froze. Jamie's hand slipped from his as she stumbled closer to the hysterical man. "He's not making any sense," she lamented.

"Yes he is," he told her. He raised his finger and traced six letters into the dust that had gathered on the window of the Hummer. _A-G-C-A-G-T_

Jamie turned back and peered at them. "What is that?"

"That," he told her, "is the key to everything."

It took them nearly twenty more minutes to get Jackson out of the hole and into the Hummer. Abe refused to leave his side and Dariela didn't want to drive in case she needed to help keep him under control. That left Logan behind the wheel as Mitch and Jamie slid into the truck Jackson had commandeered.

They followed the taillights in front of them as Logan led them out of the woods and back to the main road. Jamie was quiet for most of the ride, but as they approached the plane she twisted a little in her seat.

"Will Jackson be okay?"

Mitch glanced at her briefly and wished he had something better than "I don't know." But the truth was, he had no idea, and he told her so. "But I promise I'm gonna figure it out," he told her. "That sequence he was uttering, 'all good children are growing teeth.' It's a mnemonic device for a genetic sequence that happens to coincide with the first six nucleotides of the ghost gene."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that at some point in his life, Jackson saw that sequence. And if he can remember the rest of it, then I can cure him."

Mitch spent the rest of the night working in the lab. Jamie joined him sometime after one thirty. She padded in quietly with a book and a blanket and settled on the cot he had in the corner without a word. Mitch didn't say anything about it, but when he glanced back at her she was nodding off into the pages. He lowered his music to a barely audible hum and waited another twenty minutes before moving to tuck her in. She was fast asleep, and he took a moment to just watch her sleeping peacefully. He wondered how long it had been since she'd had a good night's sleep and feared that answer was somewhere on the order of weeks rather than days.

Mitch fell asleep at his table an hour later, his arms folded under his head and his glasses askew. The sun was rising when he opened his eyes, and he blinked blearily. A quick glance told him Jamie had risen before him. Her blanket was folded neatly where she'd been sleeping, but there was no other trace of her. Mitch looked at the work that surrounded him and decided that he needed coffee before he dove back into it.

When he returned, Jackson was searching the lab frantically for something. Mitch knew he should care - the man was very nearly tearing the place apart - but the little sleep coupled with the persistent mystery of the ghost gene was zapping all of his brainpower.

Allison came around the corner with a stern expression. There was no trace of the coy, flirtatious woman from last night and Mitch sighed internally with relief. Whatever she'd been thinking had apparently been pushed to the back burner in light of this newest development. She stopped next to him and watched through the window as Jackson continued to open drawers and cabinets in his quest. "You are losing control of your crew," she said. "He's becoming a danger to himself and to this mission."

"That's my call," Mitch sipped his coffee and kept a close watch on Jackson. He wasn't disturbing anything near the computer or the animals, and Mitch was curious what he was after. "You put me in charge, let me be in charge."

"So you - in good conscience - are saying that he's fine?" Allison pointed at the agitated man through the glass.

"I'm saying I can handle it." Mitch was careful to keep any of the anger he was feeling toward her from showing in his voice. That last thing they needed now was another change of leadership.

"I have to go to London for a few days," she said finally. "I'm trying to sway a few of the British IADG reps away from the Noah Objective. When I get back, we'll revisit Jackson. And Jamie."

Mitch gripped the handle of his mug tightly and bit down on the acidic reply that sprang up on his tongue. With any luck, there would be some kind of emergency that required them to leave her in England and fly away. Even as he thought it, though, he knew better. His luck wasn't quite that good.

As soon as she left Mitch walked around the to the entrance to the lab. Jackson had apparently found what he was looking for - RFID tracking chips. Before Mitch could say something, he'd injected one into his arm.

"What are you doing?"

Jackson stowed the syringe gun back in its case and snapped it closed. "Now you don't have to worry about me wandering off again."

"Oh, so you think a tracking chip - a poorly placed one, I might add - is gonna keep me from worrying?"

"Mitch, it's been a long night, okay?" Jackson started for the door.

"Need you to look at this." He grabbed a small journal from the pile of work at his desk and opened it. It was Jackson's. He'd been writing in it for a few days now, almost absently sometimes. At first Mitch thought he was keeping a diary, but then he caught him taking notes during the briefing and wondered if he wasn't documenting everything. When he'd found it discarded in the vehicle bay last night, Mitch had taken it to try to get a better idea of what Jackson was going through. He'd been surprised to find scattered notes, drawings, and a seemingly random assortments of half-finished thoughts and phrases.

Jackson tapped the page angrily. "What, so you can just rub it in my face that I'm losing my mind?" He pushed the journal away. "You don't have to, Mitch. I'm aware."

"Oh, I don't think you're losing your mind," Mitch told him. "In fact, I think we might have found something in your mind." He was listening now, and Mitch began to explain his theory. Something about the last few days, about their conversation and the ghost gene, had triggered something. Jackson had been integral to the cure before, but now Mitch believed he was the key to finding the ghost gene as well.

"What happens if you can't find it?" Jackson asked.

"The cure's like a bomb," Mitch explained. "One that's gonna nuke the triple-helix. Okay? And the sequence is the address. If I don't have the address, I have no idea where to deliver the bomb." It was a crude analogy but it worked.

"So without the sequence, the cure's useless," Jackson translated.

"Are you ready to go?" Abe came in with his backpack full of supplies.

Mitch had intended on going with the team to help them search, but now that had changed. "No," he said at the same time Jackson answered yes. At the younger man's look he shrugged helplessly. "You're the only one who can help me with this."

Jackson seemed to finally understand what was at stake. "You know what, Abe? We're gonna...we're gonna hang back."

"Is everything okay?" Abe looked back and forth between the two men curiously.

"Peachy," Jackson answered.

"It'll be even peachier once you get to Pierce's and find that list of animals." He motioned for Jackson to stay there and walked with Abe to the bay. The others were already packed up and ready to go.

"Jackson and I are gonna stay here and work on the ghost gene sequence," Mitch said. "Abe's gonna take point in Holbeach." The bad blood that had started in New Brunswick weeks ago was still boiling inside of him, but Abe was the best choice to lead the mission. Jamie was still finding her footing, and Mitch didn't trust either Dariela or Logan further than he could throw them.

Dariela finished loading the weapons and held a handgun and a tranq rifle out for Logan to choose. He nodded toward the rifle and Dariela handed it over, then turned to Jamie.

"No," Jamie shook her head and backed away from the Beretta.

"Take it," Mitch directed. "We don't know what to expect in Holbeach. Everyone needs to have a weapon." He could guess how she felt about guns; she'd killed a man with one, after all. But he wasn't willing to let her go out there without some sort of protection. Jamie glared at him but took the gun, tucking it into the small of her back wordlessly. She disappeared into the Hummer without saying goodbye, and Mitch winced as she slammed the door.

"She'll be fine," Abe promised. Not unsurprisingly, the words didn't make him feel better.

"Just keep an eye on her," Mitch said quietly. "And stay in touch." Abe nodded and turned to walk away, but Mitch reached out and clamped his hand around the larger man's arm. There was surprise in his eyes when he looked back. Mitch made sure his next words were clear and irrefutable. "Under no circumstances do you leave her behind again. Do you hear me? I don't care what happens. You bring her back."

Abe's expression was unreadable, but finally he nodded solemnly. "I will." Mitch released him and walked away before he came up with a reason he needed Jamie to stay behind. She needed to get back on track, to feel like she was a contributing member of the team. And, he reminded himself, if he couldn't let her out of his sight because of his personal feelings then Allison's claim that he was too emotionally compromised to be an effective leader would be true. And right now, Allison being right about anything wasn't acceptable .

It took about an hour and a half to get everything ready and research enough about memory regression that he didn't feel too out of his depth. He told Jackson to get something in his stomach and grab a shower, as this would likely take the rest of the day.

"Alright," he slid the IV into Jackson's arm and hooked up the bag. "We call this cognitive repression reversal," he explained, recalling the articles he'd very nearly memorized. "See, your brain is like a rusty file cabinet. It just needs a little grease on the hinges and memories come popping right out."

Jackson eyed the set up warily. "And by 'grease' you mean…?" He glanced at the blue bag above his head.

"Cholinesterase," Mitch grabbed the dose button. "It's a sedative. Hypnotic." When Jackson looked worried Mitch just smiled. "Who says we never do anything fun together." He tapped the button discreetly and stowed it away. "Okay, you ready?"

"No," Jackson hesitated.

It was too late, but Jackson didn't realize that. Mitch gave him some time as the machine prepared the first dose. "Alright," he snapped off his gloves and moved to toss them.

"Really?" Jackson laid back. "I thought you'd just ignore what I want."

"Well of course I did," Mitch turned. "Hit the button like three seconds ago." It was bad form, but they didn't have time for Jackson to hem over the decision. They needed the rest of that sequence as soon as possible. Jackson looked down as the chemical flooded his system and gave Mitch a halfhearted glare.

"So how fast -?" He jerked slightly and the air rushed from him as the effects took hold. "Whoa."

"Just breathe," Mitch kept his voice steady and low as he lowered himself onto the stool next to Jackson's bed. "Think about your father," he directed. "Think about any time that he mentioned genetics."

Jackson's eyes were glazed and unfocused, and Mitch knew he was going back. "He didn't talk about genetics. Mostly biology." He was fighting the hypnosis.

"Maybe he had it written down somewhere," Mitch prompted, but Jackson just shook his head sharply.

"He didn't leave papers laying around his lab. Just his office." He huffed in distress. "I wasn't allowed in there." Something was upsetting him and Mitch was losing control fast.

"Alright," he redirected. "Just relax." He did. Jackson's eyes closed, but he wasn't unconscious. Mitch could see them moving beneath his eyelids.

"Where's Felix?" he muttered. Mitch almost asked who Felix was, but then stopped. He was remembering. Mitch sat in silence for a few moments as Jackson's mind took him back. Suddenly he gasped and his eyes flew open. They were clearer and Mitch realized the sedative was already wearing off. Jackson's mutation was causing him to metabolize it faster than normal.

"What is it? What did you see?" he asked.

Jackson just let his head fall back against the exam bed. "A ghost," he breathed. Mitch let him catch his breath as he explained what he'd remembered. Identifying the cranial nerves of a ferret wasn't exactly what they were after. They needed to go again.

"Just remember," he told Jackson, "these are your memories. You're in control."

"Control?" Jackson laughed hollowly. "Yeah, because I've had so much of that lately." He looked down at the IV. "Come on, let's just do this."

Mitch reached for the button and pressed it again. The sedative hit Jackson and he sagged in his seat as his eyes fell closed. "I need you to forget about the lab for a second," Mitch said. "Focus on your dad's office. Maybe you overheard what he was working on in there."

"Hard not to overhear him," Jackson slurred. "He made these tapes, like a manifesto almost. They were the ramblings of a madman." He stopped and worked his tongue like he tasted something bitter. "The more tapes he made, the less we saw of him. He just started getting consumed by his work." Jackson's head was turned away, but Mitch could see the sadness in his expression. "He started to go down a very...dark path."

Mitch wasn't surprised by that. He'd heard rumors about Dr. Robert Oz and his theories. "Are we talking human testing?"

"Testing makes it sound more legitimate," Jackson responded slowly. "I saw the tests he did on the animals. This was gonna be different." Jackson flinched, a quick involuntary tic around his nose and mouth. "Other people must have realized it too, because there was an accident." He did it again, and this time it was accompanied by his fists clenching. "At least, that's what the police called it."

Mitch could believe that someone had found out what Oz was planning and taken it upon themselves to stop it. He just didn't know who.

"He was never the same after that," Jackson opened his eyes. "The fire not only took his lab, it took his sanity. It took him away from us." There was something beyond sorrow in his eyes that Mitch couldn't identify. Jackson was still holding something in, still repressing something, and Mitch needed to know what it was.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm starting to realize why your dad went off the deep end." Identifying with Robert Oz wasn't something Mitch thought he'd ever do. But here he was. "We lost one cure already," he continued. "If somebody trashed all our work, that'd be enough to loosen my screws." Just the thought of having to start from scratch after all they'd done - all they'd lost - was enough to raise his blood pressure.

"It wasn't a happy time in the Oz household," Jackson confirmed.

"So, what?" Mitch refocused him and tried to get him back on track. "Did he start bringing his work home with him?"

"After that, rage is all he brought home with him. Rage." Jackson swallowed thickly. "I had to get the hell out of there."

Mitch felt a sinking panic in his stomach. What if Jackson was repressing more than the genetic sequence of the ghost gene? What if they were opening up a floodgate of horrific memories and Jackson couldn't handle it? What if he went on another one of his episodes right here?

"The passports," he mumbled. "Dad had the passports in his office. They burned in the fire."

 _That's strange._

Jackson jumped like he'd been struck and, for a moment, Mitch feared he was reliving a childhood trauma. But his eyes were open and focused, and Mitch realized the sedative had worn off again.

Mitch had to get him away from the panic in his eyes and back to the task. "You said you were never allowed in your dad's office."

"I wasn't," Jackson insisted.

"So how did you know the passports were in there?"

Jackson just looked at him with a lost expression. "I don't know."

Mitch believed him, but they were losing time. And the longer he waited, the longer Jackson's mind had to re-block those memories. It was time to stop coddling him.

"You told me you were never allowed in your dad's office," he pushed.

"I wasn't," he repeated. "I don't know why I said the thing about the passports. I was never in his office."

"I know you want to believe that," Mitch was beginning to put a picture together, an answer to the puzzle that made sense.

"Hey," Jackson tensed in his seat, his hair matted with sweat as he hissed angrily. "If you think I'm lying, then just say it. Come out and say it! Don't patronize me."

"I don't think you're lying," Mitch tried to placate him. The last thing he needed right now was an agitated patient with a mutation that made him Hulk out. "I think you're repressing. Freud called it 'screening,' okay? You're protecting yourself from a potentially painful memory."

Jackson started to sit up. "I need a break."

"No, no," Mitch pushed him back down. "Not right now. We can't take a break." Given time, Jackson's mind would just repress these memories deeper into his subconscious, and they might not be able to access them again so easily.

"Mitch," Jackson pushed back.

"We're too close," he argued firmly. "We cannot take a break right now."

"I need a break, Mitch," Jackson was struggling now. "I need a break!"

Mitch had expected the anger but not the desperation. Whatever was hidden in Jackson's mind, it was fighting hard to keep it there. Mitch was effectively ripping away the protections his mind had placed over the memories, and he felt bad for it. But they needed this sequence. And Jackson's reluctance was only hindering their work.

"Right," Mitch clamped his hand down over the IV where Jackson had started to pull. He let his own frustration seep into his voice as he leaned in. "Chloe died trying to save the world. You telling me you can't face your daddy issues?" It was a low blow - low even for a man who claimed to have terrible people skills - but it did the trick. Jackson leaned back into the seat as Mitch hit the button one more time.

Sometimes Mitch really hated being right.

Jackson remembered everything, the rest of the sequence and the cause of his father's lab fire. It had been Jackson himself who had set the fire in an effort to get his dad back. But it had failed. Robert Oz had only spiraled further into madness, and ultimately Jackson and his mother had been forced to leave.

Mitch tried to imagine what that would have been like for a young boy to believe he was responsible for his father's mental break and the destruction of his parents' marriage. He wasn't great at the sympathy thing, but it was perfectly understandable why Jackson's mind had chosen to just lock those events away rather than deal with them. As Jackson left to take a shower and begin to process the new information he'd uncovered, Mitch was left in the lab to clean up.

He realized with a start that he hadn't checked his phone all day. Abe would have contacted Jackson or even Trotter if there had been an emergency, but Mitch mentally berated himself for letting his leadership duties lapse as he focused on Jackson's regression. There were two texts from Abe that served as very basic status reports. One mentioned something about cicadas and leopards, and that the team was all present and accounted for. The second one reported that Reiden Global had beat them to Pierce's house and they were now searching for the bones of the animals rather than any notes about his work.

He found Abe's number in his contacts and hit the call button. He needed more information than a simple text could give him, and he needed to hear from the man himself that everything (and everyone) was okay.

"Hello?"

"It's me," Mitch answered lamely. "I, uh, I'm just checking in."

Abe chuckled softly. "We found the bones," he said. "They were buried in the cemetery in the plot of a brother Pierce never had."

"Okay," Mitch was sure he'd hear the story behind that later. "You mentioned something about Reiden?"

There was a pause, then Abe confirmed it. "The Father says the team left last week. They cleaned out everything from Pierce's home. He took pictures, but none of them showed boxes large enough to hold the bones of the animals. We figured they had to be buried somewhere, so we checked local records."

"Good thinking," Mitch praised.

"There is something else." The suddenly somber tone of his voice made Mitch nervous. Had something happened to Jamie? With Jamie? She hadn't been happy to have to carry a weapon, and Mitch wondered if it hadn't been too soon after all. His mind started spiraling through scenarios until Abe spoke again. "Dariela has decided to stay. She wants to escort the townsfolk to safety."

Mitch was surprised to feel upset at the news. "She what?"

"She said…" Abe trailed off, then started again. "Mitch, these people are barely surviving. This was something she felt strongly about, and we cannot force her to stay."

Mitch tried not to think of the irony of the situation. Just a few days ago he'd joked about getting rid of her, to which Allison had replied that he couldn't fire the toughest member of the team. Now she was leaving voluntarily. He wondered how Allison would react to the news.

"Alright," Mitch sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "So you're on your way back with the bones?"

"Yes," Abe answered. "Logan, Jamie and I are about two hours away."

Mitch checked the clock and nodded. That would put them back around four. Mitch bid Abe goodbye and tossed his phone onto the table. His eyes fell on the notebook where Jackson had written the genetic sequence he'd recalled from the depths of his memories.

 _A-G-C-A-G-T-A-C-G_

It was the sequence he needed to deliver the cure. Now all they needed was the cure itself.

"My father knew." Jackson came bursting in out of breath, his distress evident in his quick movements and frantic expression.

Mitch knew their adventure was going to have after effects; uncovering memories like that was bound to leave him off balance and confused. Still, that sort of non sequitur was uncommon for him. He glanced up at Jackson, then back down to the journal.

"Gonna need a little more context."

"He knew I burned down his lab. I remembered...he approached me about it. Confronted me before I left for Africa."

Mitch had wondered if that was the case. Robert Oz was crazy but he was not an idiot. But if he was as troubled as Jackson had said he was, had he done something upon realizing his son was responsible for the loss of his life's work? Or was Jackson's guilt finally manifesting in paranoia?

"Look," Mitch tried to calm his friend, "you were...you were just a kid -"

"No, Mitch look." Jackson turned suddenly and rubbed his fingers over a set of raised bumps on the back of his neck. It looked almost like a bite of some kind, complete with puncture marks. "He gave me some sort of injection," Jackson went on. "Some sort of shot. I always thought it was a birthmark. But now…"

Something clicked in Mitch's brain and he capped his pen. "Well, that would explain it."

It had been an anomaly he'd found during his initial work up. At first he'd dismissed it, thinking it just an inconsistency in the testing method. But now, with Jackson's revelation, it appeared to be so much more.

"What are you saying?" Jackson asked.

"Maybe you didn't inherit the gene," Mitch hypothesized. "Maybe - somehow - your dad created a synthetic version of it, and he injected you with it."

"Your saying my father did this?" Jackson's face morphed from confusion to horror. "That everything I'm going through is because of him? Why would he do that?"

"I have no idea," Mitch shook his head. "But it explains why I couldn't determine the gene's origin." Standing so close to Jackson, Mitch saw the moment his pupils dilated. "Jackson?" Mitch glanced around and cursed at the lack of potential weapons within reach. If Jackson lost control right now, Mitch wouldn't stand a chance. "Jackson!"

Mitch couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his heart as Jackson fought to regain control. His short, labored breaths were the only sounds he made as he clenched his fists tightly. Whatever calming method he was trying wasn't working, and Mitch could actually see the veins in his neck pulsing.

There was nothing else to do; Mitch reached for the glass on the counter and doused Jackson's face in cold scotch. The ice cubes bounced off his face and clattered to the floor as he stared at Mitch in shock. But it worked. The sudden jolt had snapped Jackson out it and he blinked quickly as he wiped the alcohol off his face.

"Thanks," he mumbled sheepishly.

Mitch forced himself to keep the fear out of his voice as he clapped Jackson's soggy shoulder. "Yeah, sure."

Jackson sniffed at the smell of scotch that now permeated from him. "Now I need another shower."

Mitch watched him go and looked down at his now empty glass. "I need another scotch."

A little over two hours later Mitch heard the door to the vehicle bay slide back. Logan was the first one to emerge.

"We're back."

"Yes, I can see that," Mitch drawled. "How did it go?"

Logan just shrugged and kept moving toward the small shower and bath combo that sat just off the lab. Since he didn't have an actual room, it was that or he used someone's personal shower. Mitch supposed with Dariela gone, he would soon be sharing a bathroom with the man. Just thought was enough to ruin whatever satisfaction Dariela's departure had granted him.

Abe and Jamie came next, and Mitch stood as they approached.

"The bags with the bones are still in the truck," Abe said.

"Bags?" Mitch questioned.

Jamie shook her head ruefully. "Some assembly required," she joked.

"Great." Mitch wasn't terribly keen on rebuilding skeletons, but they needed to know what animals they were looking for. "What happened with Dariela?"

"She said she was going to escort the townsfolk to the extraction point."

"Eighty miles away," Jamie added. "She'll be lucky to make it two with the panthers out there." Mitch couldn't fault her the pessimistic outlook, not with what she'd gone through out there, but it still bothered him. Her eternal optimism had been on the verge of annoying last year, but no matter what went wrong, the team could always count on Jamie's positivity and spirit to bolster them. It was gone now, twisted into something more resembling his own embittered world view.

"Dariela seems to think they will make it," Abe's quiet voice reminded both of them that there was someone here who cared for Dariela as more than just a teammate. Mitch could empathize well with his situation. Just a week ago, it had been Jamie who had been out there alone.

Mitch realized with a start they were still waiting for him to say something. _Right_ , he told himself, _I'm the leader_. "Uh, okay. I'll start unloading the bones. Why don't you guys grab showers and something to eat."

"Sounds good to me," Jamie bolted for the stairs immediately, but Abe stuck around at Mitch's pointed look.

When she was gone, Mitch finally spoke. "How did she do?"

Abe stared back for a moment, as if debating something, and then shook his head. "You should ask her yourself." It was almost a rebuke, and Mitch scowled. Abe gave him a sad smile. "As far as the mission goes, she did well. The rest I will leave for you to discuss with her."

He left Mitch with more questions than answers, answers he knew he could only get from Jamie herself. She didn't seem in a particularly talkative mood, so Mitch set to the task of unloading the bones and starting to assemble them.

Luckily for him, Pierce had separated each animal into a different bag. He just hadn't bothered labeling the damn things. He grabbed several instrument trays and cleared them off before setting one bag on each of them. Then, after donning gloves and a mask, he began unpacking.

Allison came back at some point during the evening, but Mitch was so focused on reassembling the skeletons that he gave her barely a cursory glance and a muttered greeting. She seemed to recognize that he was zoned in on his work and left for her lounge lair almost as soon as she arrived on board.

The snake came together fairly easily, so he focused on that one first. The vulture was next, and by the time he set the last bone in place he was stifling a yawn every thirty seconds or so.

He hadn't really slept well hunched over on his work desk the night before, and a restful sleep in his bed was just the thing his body and mind needed. He snapped his gloves off and rubbed his eyes tiredly as he switched the lights in the lab off. Moe's tank glowed brightly in the darkness, and he took a moment to watch the undulation of his tentacles as it floated about in the water.

"Night, Moe."

He continued his ascent up to the dormitory level. He stopped in the hall just outside his room and debated for a moment. He could see a light on behind Jamie's door, but she hadn't emerged since they'd gotten back from their field trip. Whatever Abe had meant about her performance on the mission, Jamie hadn't seemed too keen to talk about it. Deciding it was a battle he could fight tomorrow, he turned away from her door and slipped into his own room.

An hour later his door slid back, and Mitch blinked blearily as Jamie stepped inside and closed it behind her. She didn't move any further, and even though he couldn't see her face he could practically hear her internal debate as she shifted indecisively.

"Stop thinking and get over here," he grumbled, tossing the blankets back in invitation. She shuffled over and slipped beneath the warmth he'd created. Unlike every other time they'd shared a bed, she rolled to face away from him rather than settle against his body. Sensing she needed some space to think, he refrained from draping an arm around her to pull her closer. Instead he tucked the blanket over her shoulder and rested his arm along his side as she gathered her thoughts.

She was silent for a long time, and Mitch thought she'd fallen asleep. He hated that she couldn't find peace in her own bed, but he was glad she trusted him enough to seek solace in his. He closed his eyes and relaxed, content in the knowledge that he was nearby if she needed him.

"Do you think I've changed?"

Her question came so abruptly that he actually jerked slightly, pulled from his half-doze into full wakefulness as the enormity of her question hit him. He faltered for a moment, unsure how he should answer her. He settled for something he knew she appreciated - the truth.

"Yes," he said. She stiffened immediately and he actually had to wrap his arm over her to keep her from bolting from his bed. "It's not a bad thing, Jamie. We've all changed. This whole...mess that the world's become - it's changed all of us." He could sense she was still struggling with something and, with a bit of coaxing, he got her to turn over and face him. The soft white light of the half moon filtered through his windows and cast shadows over the sharp angles of her face. Her eyes were still closed, but they opened when his fingers drifted lightly over the shell of her ear. He pulled his hand away from her face but kept it resting on the bed between them. "What happened out there?"

"Nothing, I just -" she cut off her own protest with a shake of her head. She needed to get it out, and her mind was finally owning up to the fact. When she did speak, it was slow at first. "I used to have hope. I mean, come on. I battled a corporate superpower for twelve years, knowing I was outmatched but still hoping that someday, somehow I'd get through to the right people. That they would be made to pay for all of the harm they'd caused." She was gaining speed now, fueled by the righteous willfulness he'd seen in her from day one. "Nobody thought I could succeed, not my friends, not my professors, not even my own family. But still I kept at it, because I really believed that one day I'd win. That I could somehow bring justice to my mom and all of the other people whose lives Reiden had destroyed." Mitch listened as Jamie's thoughts came tumbling out. She needed to work up to the problem, to build steam in order to crash through whatever barrier was holding her back from just admitting it. She was almost there.

"And we almost succeeded," she rambled on. "We found the Mother Cell and direct proof that Reiden had been the cause of the whole mess. They were going to finally pay their due. The cure worked and Reiden was exposed, and for once in the history of the world the little guy ended up on top." She laughed scornfully and he hated the sound. "I was blisteringly naive."

For a moment he said nothing, unsure how to respond to this gloomy, dispirited Jamie. She had always been the one to raise them up, to keep their spirits high whenever they were feeling low. Mitch felt wholly inadequate at the task, but he had to try.

"You know what I thought the first time we met?"

Her nose wrinkled in confusion at his question. "Who is this crazy person and why is she asking me weird questions about lions?"

He huffed in amusement and reached for her. She scooted toward him but he was sure to keep enough distance so he could maintain eye contact. He wanted her to see the truth of his words in his eyes.

"Well, sure," he went along with her joke, then shifted to a more serious tone. "I thought 'this woman is the bravest, most fearless, passionate person I have ever met.' You captivated me from day one, Jamie Campbell. And yes," he tucked her hair behind her ear gently, "you have changed. Everyone has. But you still have the same fiery spirit, despite the awful things you've endured. And whatever it is that's got a hold of you, that's poisoning your mind into believing otherwise, I just want you to know you don't have to face it alone. Not any more."

He expected her to smile, to reach out and grab his hand or hug him. But when she closed the distance between them it was to kiss him firm and full. There was no mistaking the meaning behind her fervor, and he let himself drink her in for a few moments before he broke away.

"Jamie," he whispered in the darkness. "Are you sure?"

Her answer was swift. In the span of two hammering heartbeats she sat up and stripped her shirt over head. It fell softly on the carpet as her body fell against his, and Mitch hands moved to explore this new expanse of skin before his brain could process what had happened. She silenced whatever doubt remained in his mind as she kissed him again, moving to straddle his hips as his hands roamed over her back and shoulders.

Mitch's senses were overwhelmed as she moved over him, and somewhere between his hands mapping the plane of her stomach and his mouth devouring the pale flesh just below her collarbone they'd added his shirt and both their sweatpants to the pile on the floor. Mitch put his excellent memory to use as he elicited the soft moans that had inflamed him yesterday morning.

Jamie wasn't a passive participant in their dance. More than once Mitch had to slow the rock of her hips in an effort to regain some control over himself. But as soon as his hands resumed their exploration she was moving again, her face drawn tight in determination as she tried to push them further.

The bed wasn't as wide as hers, but he managed to maintain enough awareness as he rolled them to keep them from tumbling to the floor. Jamie whimpered at the loss of control, and her eyes opened as Mitch settled his overheated body on hers. There was a moment of quiet as he stared down at her, and despite the tension he could feel in her body she looked completely content for the first time since they'd reunited in Canada.

"I love you," he whispered. His lips fell to hers softly once, then twice. He said it again as she wriggled beneath him, and again as the rustle of cloth signaled the last of their barriers falling away. When words became impossible, he fell silent and gave himself over to the night.


	21. Zero Sum - Loss and Gain

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 21: Zero Sum - Loss and Gain

 _Jamie struggles with her inner demons as the team faces a direct threat from Davies and a betrayal from within._

* * *

 _A lonely wind howled through the trees as she stood frozen with fear. She could sense the beast in the darkness, hidden by the shadows and creeping ever closer. She would have run if she could; in the inky blackness she couldn't even see her own feet. She tried to take a step but with no way to see she had no idea if she was moving toward danger or away from it._

 _It growled, low and menacing, and her heart pounded fiercely. The wind stole the breath from her lungs as it turned ice cold. Her fingers began to grow numb and her face stung as her tears froze on her cheeks. She collapsed to her knees, hunching in on herself to both protect her body and preserve heat. The beast grew near, its hot breath like a blast of fire on her neck._

 _A blinding flash of light erupted in the field, and she had to shield her eyes against it. From the darkness rose a lion, proud and strong. It leaped, clearing her prone body to land between her and the beast. It opened its mouth to roar, the sound filling the space and warming her from her core like the first rays of spring on the winter frost. The monstrous beast recoiled, snarling and snapping in frustration at being denied its prey. With one last bellow of anger it turned and bolted off into the darkness._

 _The lion turned to her then, standing perfectly still until she got to her feet. He was magnificent, standing well above her shoulder and broad in the chest. His golden mane radiated light, and she took tentative steps toward him until she was within reach. Her fingers sifted through his silky fur, stroking his shoulder in thanks as she soaked in the warmth he offered. His nose nuzzled her ear once, twice, then he was gone, bounding off into the shadows. The light he had brought with him remained, and finally she was able to begin her long trek home._

Jamie's eyes snapped open in the darkness. It had been the first dream she'd had since her return that hadn't ended with her screaming or shaking. The imagery wasn't lost on her, nor its meaning. A lion standing guard in the darkness, protecting her and offering her light and warmth. A smile graced her lips and she rolled, fully expecting to see the form of her lover lying next to her.

But there were only empty sheets. Jamie frowned and sat up to glance at the bathroom door. It was still slightly ajar muting the light from within. Jamie hated that she still couldn't sleep in the darkness, though if Mitch was next to her she rarely had a problem. It had been almost a week since the night she'd slipped into his room and into his bed. Just as she'd hoped he would, he'd been able to abate her fears and help her forget about the horrors of the world for a little while. And he'd done it again the next night, and again the next. For four nights Jamie had slept soundly, unafflicted by the gloom that lurked in her subconscious.

He was gone now, though, and she guessed where she could find him. Her feet slid into the slippers she'd inherited from Chloe as she stood. Her door slid back silently and she padded quietly down the hall toward the corridor. Just as she suspected, there was a light on beneath the stairs in the lab. When she descended she found him hunched over one of the bone tables.

Mitch had his earbuds in, and even from a distance she could hear the strong chords of a guitar. Not wanting to startle him, she moved slowly until he looked up at her. He plucked one bud from his ear and smiled at her.

"Hey," he greeted quietly, mindful of the still-sleeping members of their team. "You okay?"

Jamie marveled at his ability to read her despite all of his declarations that he was horrible at it. She shrugged one shoulder and moved to peer over his shoulder. "Couldn't sleep." She knew he understood what she wasn't saying, and when he frowned she didn't react.

"I left the bathroom light on," he offered by way of apology. "I just...I wanted to finish this one."

Jamie looked down at the skeleton coming together on the table in front of them. The moment he'd pulled it from the bag Mitch had sworn it was a large lizard of some kind, and she believed him. Now there were only a few pieces left to place, and she could definitely see the shape of the animal now.

"Komodo dragon?" she asked curiously.

"No," Mitch shook his head and indicated the length of the skeleton. "Komodos are much bigger than this," he said. "Looking at the snout, I'd say it's a tegu of some kind, probably _tupinambis rufescens_ judging from the size."

"Mitch," she warned, and he laughed.

"Red tegu."

"And where are those found?"

"South America." He was dividing his attention between her and the remaining bones, and for a few moments she was content to watch him work.

"Can I help?" She had no idea where the question had come from. She'd hated her biology classes, choosing instead to use that time to polish her English essays or read her assigned chapters again. She'd passed by the skin of her teeth and probably not a small amount of pity from her high school science teacher. He'd lost his brother-in-law to the Reiden disaster, and though Jamie had never intentionally used her mother's death to gain sympathy, she was sure it was on the fore of everyone's minds every time they talked to her.

Still, the thought of helping Mitch with this piece of their ever-evolving puzzle appealed to her, and she silently pleaded with him to let her.

He seemed surprised by her request, but recovered quickly. "Sure, grab some gloves." She snapped on the latex quickly, moving to the other side of the table when he indicated. "Okay, here," he handed her three small cylindrical pieces of bone. "Those are the phalanges."

"The what?"

"A toe or finger bones," he translated.

She looked at the tiny bones in her hand and the four limbs that he'd already placed. It was impossible to tell which hand or foot these bones were from. "Where do they go?" She knew she was likely more of a hindrance to him than a help, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Well, look at the sizes. Generally, the smaller the bone, the further from the center it is."

She arranged the three bones from largest to smallest and placed them next to the foot bones Mitch had already set down. "Like this?"

"Exactly," he praised. "I got a whole box full of phalanges here if you want to place them." He handed her the small container. "The metatarsals are already down, and since this isn't an official reconstruction it doesn't have to be perfect. Just remember that each limb has fourteen of those little bones and put them wherever."

They worked in silence for another half hour as Mitch arranged the vertebrae and she placed tiny finger bones. She placed fourteen at each limb just as he directed, and when she was done she held out her empty box triumphantly.

"Good job," he nodded at her work and placed his last vertebra. "I'm done as well. Looks like our next target is a tegu."

"Should we tell Trotter to set a course for Argentina?" Jamie asked.

Mitch shook his head and frowned. "We can't," his tone darkened, and Jamie could guess why. "Allison has to return to Washington and apparently we're her personal taxi."

Jamie resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but just barely. Ever since England, Allison had treated her with something resembling concealed disdain and Jamie had no idea why. _Three guesses, Jamie._

Allison's intentions with Mitch had been a constant source of worry for some time now, but something had happened in England that neither of them were talking about. She hadn't been brave enough to ask Mitch about it, and judging from the sulky mood Mitch seemed to be in whenever Allison was mentioned she probably didn't want to know. Still, her curiosity had gotten her into trouble far more often than out; it was a quirk she could never shake.

"Can I ask you a question?" She figured it was the safest way to start; she'd know his state of mind based on his answer.

"You just did." That was a good sign; she'd take snarky over sullen any day.

"It's about Allison," she warned. "Something feels weird, and I don't know if I'm just imagining it but it's almost like she went from disliking me to hating me overnight and I'm not entirely sure what I did -"

"Stop," Mitch reached for her, cutting off her rambling with a simple hand on her arm. It suffused her skin with his warmth and she unconsciously shuffled a step closer to him to soak in more of him. "Whatever's going on in Allison's mind is her own mess to deal with. I don't want you blaming yourself for something that has nothing to do with you."

"Really?" Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Because it feels like it has a lot do with me."

"No," Mitch sighed and removed his hand from her arm to run it through his hair. "She's mad at me, not you. Well, not directly at any rate."

"Why would she be mad at you?" Jamie could guess, but she'd rather hear it from him.

"Because…" he faltered, took a breath and tried again. "Because Allison's not a fan of being told no."

Hearing it out loud had a greater effect on her than she thought it would. She took a step back and dropped her eyes away from his in an effort to gather her thoughts. "So she made a pass at you...when? While we were in Holbeach?"

"No," Mitch actually winced as the admission spilled from his lips. "The night before, actually. Right before we all went on our wild Jackson chase."

Another step away. "So in the week since, you never thought to mention it to me?"

"I didn't think it mattered, Jamie," he tried to close the distance but she held up a hand to stop his advance. He froze mid-step and settled back on his heels. "Are you seriously mad at me for _not_ being seduced by her?"

She was being irrational - she knew that - but she couldn't help it. Her emotions were still all over the map sometimes. She knew what it meant, the sudden irritability at insignificant things, the bouts of loneliness that overwhelmed her even in the midst of her friends, the nightmares. It had been called a number of things over the years - shell shock, fatigue - but it was all the same thing.

"Jamie?"

"I'm going back to bed," she announced suddenly. She heard Mitch call her name again but she ignored him. She made it to her room before the tears came, but when they did they crippled her. She fell onto her bed bonelessly as the wave of emotion crashed over her, and she wept into her pillow until exhaustion claimed her.

The answer to the puzzle turned out to be a little closer to home than Argentina.

"Florida?" Logan exclaimed. "Seriously?" He sounded almost happy as Mitch revealed the surprising location of their next excursion.

"Yeah, well, don't go grabbing for the sun block just yet, sport," Mitch jeered. "Because this particular animal's phase two mutation is turning the beaches of Miami into a wintry wonderland." He was grumpier than usual, though the others blamed it on his lack of sleep. Jamie was the only one who knew the real reason, and she'd remained silent throughout the entire presentation.

Jamie caught the glance he stole at her and interpreted it correctly. He was concerned. She didn't blame him; even thinking about being cold again was enough to make her shiver. But she wasn't going to make a fuss about it right now, not in front of everyone.

"I'll tell Trotter to head south," Jackson stood up and moved toward the cockpit as the others disbanded.

She heard Mitch's footsteps behind her as he jogged to catch up. She could already imagine what he was going to say and she was ready. He fell into step beside her and she silently counted to five before he blurted out what was on his mind.

"Jamie, I -"

"If your next words are '...don't think you should get off the plane with us in Florida,' then save it. I'm going." She sped up to leave him behind but he matched her pace.

"I just think you should be cautious. You haven't been exposed to cold since you got back; you have no idea how you're going to react to an external trigger like that."

She knew he was trying to help, that he was simply worried about her and wanted to protect her. But it still rankled. Her frustration at his coddling compounded on the remnants of her hurt from the night before to create a furor in her. She stopped in the middle of the corridor and whirled, causing him to actually stumble to the side to keep from crashing into her.

"I don't need you babying me every time we talk about stepping off the plane, Mitch. I think I know my own limits." She tried to keep the bite out of her voice, but her anger found the small opening in her carefully constructed wall and surged to the fore.

His face was grim as he crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "Honestly? I don't think you do. I've been doing some reading -"

"Of course you have," she shot back snidely.

He took the blow and kept going. "- after Dariela pointed out some of the early signs."

"So all of a sudden Dariela's an expert, too?" The woman wasn't even onboard anymore and Jamie was still being irritated by her.

But Mitch wasn't deterred by her antagonistic attitude. He leveled her with a gaze that was equal parts determination and concern. "It's PTSD, Jamie. You know it is. You went through hell out there, and your mind is still trying to deal with it. It's creating an imbalance."

"Is that your professional _medical_ opinion, doctor?"

That time her shot hit the mark and he visibly reeled. His expressive face told her everything about his thought process and she felt the shame wash over her, cooling her anger instantly. She'd told him she'd never intentionally hurt him, and here she was tearing into him for the simple crime of caring about her well-being.

She opened her mouth to apologize but he held up a hand and cut her off. His own words got caught in his throat, and she could only watch as he turned sharply and stalked away. She wanted to follow him but her feet had become lead in the last few minutes, her inherent stubbornness cementing her to the spot and refusing to let her go. It was probably for the best, she decided. At least that way she couldn't hurt him anymore.

Two hours later they landed in Miami, and the tension in the vehicle bay could be cut with a knife. More than once, Jamie could feel the eyes of the team on her or Mitch but no one dared to say anything. Logan was the only one brave (or stupid) enough to approach her as they loaded the chest freezer into the back of the SUV.

"Hey, everything okay?"

Jamie grabbed a tie down that Jackson tossed her and cinched it over the top of the appliance. "Fine."

"Really?" He didn't sound convinced. "Did something happen with Mitch?"

Her silence was answer enough and he frowned. She could tell he wanted to say something else, but she really didn't want to hear his opinion on the matter. She stepped away from the truck to bundle up in the winter gear that Abe and Jackson had acquired while they were hunting for the freezer. She wondered for a moment if Mitch had been right. Was she ready for this? The last thing she needed was an episode out in the middle of a mission where everyone could see. Just the thought was enough to give her pause as she zipped up the jacket.

"Alright," Mitch grabbed their attention from his spot near the driver's seat of the truck. "We've compiled temperature readings from all of the stations still reporting in the area. The coldest region is here," he held up a tablet and tapped a small dot on the map, "just south of Homestead. Now we know there's a small group of red tegus living in the Everglades because of pet releases or escapes. We're going to go right to the center of map, where the temperature is lowest, and find our lizard."

"How are we going to subdue it without becoming popsicles?" Jackson asked bluntly.

"That's where the freezer comes in," Mitch said. "You and Abe are going to capture it and put it in the freezer, then we'll gas it with nitrous oxide to knock it out."

"Can't we just dart it?" Logan indicated the collection of tranquilizer guns in the armory.

"We could," Mitch replied sharply, "but it's not necessary. I'd rather not waste one of our darts on a four foot lizard. I do have a sedative prepared if the gas doesn't work."

Jamie rode in the Hummer with Logan and Abe. The internal heater was already working as they rolled out of the vehicle bay, but Jamie shivered anyway as she got her first glimpse of snow since Canada. Next to her, Logan hunched down a little in his own jacket and gave her a flat smile. She was beginning to think Mitch had been right, that she should have stayed on the plane, but it was too late now. She would just have to deal with it.

"You okay?" Logan whispered.

"Yeah," she nodded absently. "Just remembering how much I hate the cold now."

He chuckled humorlessly and turned his head to peer out the window. "Me, too."

Jamie was suddenly struck with the realization that she probably wasn't the only one struggling with the aftereffects of Canada. Logan had been right there with her through it all, and not once had she ever asked him how he was coping. He always appeared to be in control, but Jamie knew better than anyone how much pain someone could hide behind well-constructed armor. She felt like such a horrible friend, and she shoved her own discomfort aside for a moment to focus on Logan.

"Hey, I'm sorry I never asked...but how are you doing? You know, with all of this?" She gestured very vaguely, but he seemed to understand what she meant.

His eyes were a bit warmer when he looked back at her, and the smile he gave her was open and honest. "Oh, I'm good," he told her. "The nights are sometimes hard," he admitted quietly, mindful of their audience sitting in the driver's seat.

"I know what you mean," she sympathized. When his expression soured she shook her head. "What?"

"Nothing," he returned her huff of disbelief with one of his own. "It's just...I imagine things are a little easier for you to deal with."

"Why do you say that?"

"Mitch." It was one word, but it might as well have been a physical blow. She'd known Logan was enamored with her, but she'd honestly thought it was because she'd literally saved his life. Twice. But hearing the resentful tone he used when uttering Mitch's name made her reevaluate her judgment.

"You don't understand." She found it just a little ironic that she was now defending Mitch to Logan after she'd done the reverse just weeks ago. "Mitch he...he was...he saved me. Not just from being eaten by about half a dozen leopards, but he saved me from myself." She swallowed thickly as she remembered the last gasp of desperation that had made her seek out the LA Zoo's coroner (veterinary pathologist, actually) in an effort to prove a wild hunch. "I was spiraling when I met him, traveling a dangerous road against Reiden Global that had cost me everything. He didn't just help me, he believed in me. He supported me and stood by me, when he should have run the other direction."

"You really do love him, huh?" Logan just sounded resigned now, like he finally understood he'd had no chance from the beginning.

"I do," Jamie confirmed. "But that doesn't mean we can't be friends." It was more of a question than a statement, and she wondered how he would respond to it.

He was quiet for a few seconds, then he blew out a breath that felt a lot like surrender. "Right."

If Abe had heard their conversation he didn't say anything, and Jamie was grateful for his silence. She could hide it from Logan, but if Abe peered too closely he would surely see the guilt that blanketed her. When this was over, she owed Mitch a big apology. And, she told herself, she needed to admit that he'd been right. She needed to deal with this thing before it consumed her and caused her to lose the only good things left in her life.

When they finally reached their destination, she wore the resolution like a coat as she stepped out into the cold. The initial blast of chilled air caused her to gasp sharply, but Logan was right there next to her instantly. He squeezed her arm gently in support and moved to help Jackson and Abe pull the freezer down from the truck. As he moved away Jamie caught Mitch's eye, and she knew he'd seen the whole interaction. She could see the storm gathering in his eyes and she knew she needed to do this thing sooner rather than later. Before she could speak, however, Abe pointed animatedly toward the side of a building.

There!" He took off at a run with Jackson and Mitch close behind him. Logan and Jamie brought up the rear, mindful of the slippery roads as they crossed into the alley.

It was larger than Jamie had expected, and fat. It was also very, very angry. Luckily, Abe had thought to bring a long snare and he pinned the animal without too much trouble. Jackson wrapped the thrashing lizard in a blanket and hoisted it up as Mitch prepped the gas. They tossed the canister and the lizard into the freezer and shut the lid.

"How long will the gas take?" Abe asked.

"Five minutes?" Mitch guessed.

"You don't know?" Jackson scoffed.

"Well, this is my first time gassing a lizard," Mitch admitted snidely. "Usually we inject the anesthesia." He checked his watch several times over the course of the next few minutes, but he never looked up at Jamie. She knew he was upset with her, and he had every right to be, but it still stung.

"What if the gas doesn't work?" Logan asked.

"That's what this is for," Jackson patted the case slung over his shoulder.

Mitch turned and opened the lid just a bit, then slammed it back down. "Nope. Alright, get the needle."

Jackson unzipped the case and pulled the syringe out. "Why didn't the nitrous oxide work?"

Mitch shrugged one shoulder as he beckoned Abe over. "It froze before it could take effect. Injection's the only way." He held the lid up as Abraham got the snare around its neck again.

"Okay, I've got him."

"Easy," Jackson reached in with the needle and slid it under the tegu's skin where Mitch had instructed him. "Okay, okay, injection's in." He pulled his arm away as Abe released the animal and Mitch let the lid fall closed.

"This will be much faster," he told them. He watched the seconds tick by on his watch and Jamie could see his lips twitching as he counted silently. "Alright." He opened it again cautiously and peered in.

"Is he unconscious?" Jamie asked.

"Looks like he's getting there," Mitch held the lid higher as the others came over. Jamie looked down and wrinkled her nose.

"Damn that thing is ugly," Logan echoed her silent sentiment.

"Imagine if he'd made it downtown," Mitch said. "He'd have turned South Beach into the South Pole."

Another blast of wind was the end of Jamie's tolerance. "Yeah, I've had enough cold for a while," she tried to make it a joke, though no one laughed. "Logan and I are gonna take the other SUV."

As they were walking away she thought she heard Mitch mumble something, but she couldn't call him on it without dredging up their fight in front of everyone. So she let it go. Logan took the driver's seat and followed Abe in the Hummer as they hightailed it back to the plane.

The others had already unloaded the freezer and were racing to the lab by the time Logan parked the SUV in the bay. As soon as he put in park his phone chimed, and he frowned as he checked the message.

"Everything alright?" she asked him.

He looked up and gave her a dismissive smile that didn't quite convince. "It's just my sister. She's a bit dramatic," he explained. "Mom used to call her Chicken Little."

"Look outside lately?" Jamie quipped. "The sky's falling."

"Hey," he stopped her before she could step out. "Do you think they would miss us if we turned back around? We could go check out a beach bar - indoor of course. Grab a drink to celebrate our friendship?"

"Are you serious?" she chuckled disbelievingly. "Dude, we're kind of in the middle of something."

Logan glanced at the door and shrugged. "Yeah, they got it. Let's just go."

"We can't just take off," she told him. He was being weird, and Jamie wondered if it had anything to do with their earlier conversation.

"Yeah," he laughed, "forget I said anything."

"Raincheck," she promised. She wanted to say yes, to give him a chance to sit and talk about what they'd been through together. She thought maybe sorting it out with someone who had been there might help her make sense of the jumble in her own head, but now was not the time.

Jamie pulled the door handle and stepped out of the truck before reaching for her phone. She sent a quick text to the contact she'd made in Miami to let them know the situation had been handled and to be on the lookout for more abnormalities.

Jackson was wheeling the freezer over to the corner of the room when she arrived. "First time we captured a triple-helix animal before it was able to create an environmental catastrophe," he crowed.

She smiled at the celebratory fist bump he gave Abe and tucked her phone away. "Local authorities have been notified in case any more flash-freezing lizards turn up in Florida."

"Well we're gonna try and have a cure before they do," Mitch replied shortly.

Logan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the stair railing. "So what's the last triple-whatever animal that we need to track down?"

"Triple helix," Mitch corrected as he donned a pair of gloves. "Try and keep up, genius." The level of derision in his tone surprised Jamie; she'd thought they were past this open animosity. "And to answer your question, I don't know yet." He began walking around the makeshift bone tables slowly. "The rest of these bones I could put together with my eyes closed. The vulture. The sloth. The snake. Lizard." He indicated each in turn, then stopped in front of a jumbled pile of large bones. "This last set just doesn't make any sense," he admitted. "Gonna take me a while to figure it out."

That was Mitch-speak for "everyone get out of my lab." They all jumped to comply, scattering in different directions to avoid the wrath of the scientist.

Jamie retreated to the kitchen to regroup and organize her thoughts. She needed to talk to Mitch, preferably somewhere they wouldn't be interrupted, but she had no idea where to begin.

 _I'm sorry might be a good place, Campbell._

She silenced her inner voice with a sharp shake of her head. Abe chose that moment to enter the room and he furrowed his brow at her odd behavior.

"Banana?" she offered suddenly, grabbing one for herself. When he declined she peeled it and took a big bite.

"Jamie," he halted her exit with the word, and she turned expectantly. "I just wanted to talk to you about what we discussed."

It had been almost a week since they'd heard the rumor that Jackson's father was still alive. And to boot, he was working for the organization that they had been charged to stop at all costs. Abe had bullied her into agreeing to keep quiet, but it didn't sit well with her. She knew she'd want to be told if her father suddenly showed up after all these years.

Jamie finished her banana on the fourth bite and leaned back against the counter. "We have to tell Jackson about his father," she argued. "He deserves to know."

"But we don't even know if it is the truth," Abe countered. "Jackson has just found out his father injected him with the ghost gene. If Robert Oz is alive, he's the last person I would want to see." Jamie couldn't fault his logic; Mitch couldn't even figure out why Jackson's father had done it. "If we tell Jackson now, it could break him," Abe continued solemnly. "And I fear we would never get him back."

It was enough to silence the majority of her protests. "Okay," she relented. "So what do we do?"

"We find out if Robert Oz is, in fact, alive. Until then, we say nothing of this to Jackson." Abe stared at her firmly until she agreed with a quick nod of her head. He squeezed her arm in thanks before leaving to resume whatever he'd been doing earlier. With nothing else to occupy her thoughts or her time, Jamie decided a hot shower was just the thing to restore her equilibrium.

She made it as far as her bedroom when the lights flickered and died. _That's weird_. She tried the intercom but it, too, was dark. With no recourse left, she stepped back out into the hall in search of her team.

The plane lurched suddenly and she reached out to steady herself as they began to taxi quickly. Trotter was taking off. Jamie didn't know why he hadn't warned them, but she guessed it had something to do with their current blackout. She held her breath as they got airborne, and as soon as they left the earth it was smooth enough for her to keep moving.

Strange voices floated up from the lab and Jamie immediately slowed her steps enough to hide their sound. She made her way silently around the perimeter of the lab and laid herself flat on the floor. Through the grate she could see Mitch, Jackson and Abe being held at gunpoint, their hands bound in black zip ties. A man was standing menacingly over them with a sneer on his face, and when he turned she recognized General Andrew Davies from the pictures she'd found on the web.

One of his soldiers came up with his rifle lowered. "It's a good thing the Army Ranger wasn't here. She could have complicated things."

Davies turned with a sharp rebuke. "Just find Campbell." The soldier scurried off to comply as Davies tapped one of Mitch's tablets. He scoffed at the information he uncovered with each swipe. "Triple-helix animals, environmental anomalies, genomic fossils." He glanced up with a mocking sneer. "You can't be serious."

"You want me to explain it using smaller words?" Mitch taunted.

"That research will lead us to a cure," Abe asserted.

Davies tossed the tablet away and shook his head. "When are you going to accept that fact that there is no cure? You found your cure once and it failed. You failed," he added sharply. "The Noah Objective is the only way to stop the animals now."

Jamie had heard enough. She needed to find a way to get to Trotter and restore communication. As much as she hated the idea, Allison Shaw was likely their best bet at getting out of this mess. She slowly rose from the floor and made her way to the hall.

The intercom on the wall was dark, but she tried anyway. She pressed the button that should have connected her to the cockpit, but it just buzzed angrily whenever she tried.

"Trotter?" she whispered anyway, hoping against hope that the pilot could hear. "Trotter."

"The signal's blocked." Logan's quiet voice startled her and she whirled with her arm ready to lash out.

"Oh, Logan," she relaxed at the sight of a friendly face. "Thank God. Where have you been?" He held a large bundle under his arm, but in the dark she couldn't make out what it was.

"Davies has some kind of scrambling device set up," he explained. "You can't get anything out."

But Jamie wasn't ready to give up just yet. "Well, unless we disable it."

Logan's reaction was immediately. "Those are trained killers down there," he turned slightly. "And they already have everybody else. There's no fighting this thing. We need to go." He shifted the bundle under his arm slightly.

"What are you talking about?" Jamie glanced down, then back up at his face.

"You and I," he explained. "We need to jump. Together."

A Parachute. He was holding a parachute. And he wanted her to jump off the plane with him.

"Are you kidding me?"

But he was deadly serious. "We get out of this plane, we go back to South Beach - any beach, okay? I can buy you a drink. Just come with me now." There was a desperation in his tone that Jamie would have paid attention to if she wasn't stuck on one thing.

"I'm not jumping out of a plane," she protested. "And I'm not leaving my friends. You should know that."

He stared at her for a moment as if working something out, then he simply gave up. "Yeah, I do" he said. "The scrambler should be down by the cockpit." He set the parachute down on the jumpseat. "It'll be patched into the comms. Just follow me." He turned to head down the stairs, then stopped just as abruptly. When he looked back at her he had an unreadable look on his face. "But don't say I didn't try."

Something itched at the back of her mind, something that felt a lot like her old reporter instincts trying to tell her something was off. But she was out of options. Her friends had been captured, Trotter was flying who-knew-where, and it was just her and Logan against a four star general and his squad of goons. She followed Logan down the spiral staircase, head down as she focused on not tripping in the dark.

The landing was better lit, and Jamie was relieved that the emergency lighting was still active. Jamie kept her eye on the hallway that led to the lab, but no one emerged. Logan stepped toward the cockpit, but then suddenly stopped and turned.

"Miss Campbell." Jamie had glanced at Logan for a moment to see why he'd stopped, so General Davies' arrival startled her. Another man stepped into the small intersection behind him, and Jamie didn't miss the high-powered weapon he held. "I was starting to worry we'd lost you." Jamie knew she couldn't run, but maybe she could provide enough of a distraction so Logan could get away. Davies next words squashed her plan before it had a chance to fully form. "Nice job, Logan."

Half a dozen emotions warred within her, fighting for dominance as she whirled on the man she'd thought was a friend. Anger won out. "You son of a bitch!" She pivoted on her good foot and balled up her fist to deliver a right cross. She'd grown up with four boys and an uncle; she knew how to throw a punch. Logan went down as Davies' goon grabbed her.

"Ginger's got a mean right," Davies complimented even as Jamie struggled against her captor.

Logan stood and gave what she guessed was his version of an apology. "Jamie, I tried to give you an out. _Twice_ ," he implored. "I thought you would have learned your lesson in Caraquet."

"Why?" Her anger was quickly being replaced with betrayal and humiliation as she realized he'd played her.

"Jamie, these days you have to look out for yourself." His selfish, out-for-number-one attitude drove home just how far the world had fallen. It was the rule, now, rather than the exception.

"Come on," Davies nodded his head sharply and the man holding her pushed her forward. He had a hold of both arms, and she winced as he forced her to walk a little faster than her imperfect foot would allow.

The others looked up as they entered the lab. Mitch's eyes watched her like a hawk as they approached, concern for her outweighing whatever irritation he still held from their fight.

"You okay?" She saw him flex unconsciously, wanting to reach out to her. The black ziptie around his wrists stopped him.

"You were right," she said dejectedly, "never should've trusted him." Realization dawned as Logan stepped into view. Jamie saw each of her friends in turn glaring daggers at the man, yet not one of them directed an "I told you so" in her direction.

The man holding her pushed her toward the stairs roughly as Davies handed Logan a small phone. "Money's in your account," he told the traitor.

"Yeah, that seems about right," Mitch grumbled.

"You opened the door," Logan pressed a button and handed it back to Davies. "I just walked through."

There was a beat of silence, then Mitch erupted. Before anyone could grab him he slammed his body into Logan's, driving him back enough to ram his forehead into the younger man's face. Jamie watched in shock. She'd known there was more to him than the cool, cynical scientist he played in the lab. She'd been a first hand witness to his passion, and her body tingled with the memory of his undivided fervor directed solely at her. But this was a different animal all together. This time he meant to wound, to seek retribution against a man who had betrayed them, who had hurt her.

But he was still a lab rat, and surprise only gave him a moment's advantage before Logan's instincts kicked in. He grabbed Mitch and reversed their positions, shoving the scientist into the table viciously before delivering a hard blow to the side of his body. Jamie lurched forward immediately to intervene, but her guard thug forced her to back down.

"Stop it!" she screamed as Logan struck again, driving his fist into Mitch's ribs with enough force to move the table in front of him. The sloth's cage jostled dangerously but didn't tip. But Mitch wasn't fighting back, and when Davies hauled Logan away, Mitch didn't retaliate. Something was wrong.

"That's enough," Davies grabbed Mitch and pushed him toward the stairs. Jamie saw him wince in pain as he was manhandled, but there was something else on his face besides pain. Before she could decipher it, Davies directed his men to pull the others to their feet. "Get them upstairs," he ordered. "This op's already taken longer than it should have."

Like every chair on the plane, the ones on the upper balcony came equipped with seatbelts. They were all shoved down and secured, and Jamie finally noticed the conspiratorial glances that Jackson, Mitch and Abe seemed to be sharing. Jackson was closest, and he gave her a careful nod.

"It's okay," he whispered quickly, just low enough to keep it from reaching their enemies' ears.

Her eyes moved to Mitch, who was slumped painfully in his seat. His fingers moved subtly, and she finally saw the small device in his hand. They had a plan. She didn't know what it was, but she knew how she could help.

She was the last to be secured, and she cried out painfully as he tightened the belt over her hips. "Ow! Hey!" The man turned back with a taunting sneer. "Could you give me a little help?" She turned on the charm and gave her best demure look, the one that had gotten her out of many troublesome situations during the course of her investigative career.

He wasn't buying it. "It's supposed to be uncomfortable."

She needed to bait him further. "See these bruises," she lifted her neck to show him the fading marks from Mace's hands. "They're all over."

His smile shifted from taunting to predatory in a heartbeat. "Oh, we'll have to confirm that."

Jackson was quick to defend her, straining against his bonds as he tried to impose himself between them. "Don't you dare touch her."

The man shifted his attention to Jackson with a mocking laugh. "What are you gonna do about it, Beastie Boy?"

Jamie glanced over at Mitch, hoping he'd started whatever he'd planned. His chair was swiveled away, allowing him full view of the lab below. Jamie saw the small red dot dancing around on the sloth's cage, then in its eye. Then she saw the door to the cage was open, and suddenly she realized the plan.

It only took a few more seconds for the sloth to become angered enough to shriek. The vibrations traveled through the plane's hull, and it lurched sideways. The goons were knocked off their feet as Trotter tried to regain control. Equipment, chairs, tables and anything else not secured in place skittered across the floor. Suddenly they rocked the other way, and Jamie's stomach dropped to her toes as she gripped the seat fearfully. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she swallowed it back as Davies' man scrambled to their feet. One of them reached for her and Abe called a warning.

"Jamie, look out!"

He was on his knees but rising, and Jamie planted her good foot in his chest and shoved with all of her strength. He was already off balance from the movement of the plane, and her kick sent him back into the railing and over. She heard the crash as he impacted something, and for a brief second she wondered if she'd just killed another man.

She didn't have time to worry about it. She glanced over to where Logan and Davies had been having a quiet conversation and noticed her former friend slinking away. Jackson lunged from his seat and tackled the second man, sending him to the floor. Jackson lifted him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him back down, satisfied when he didn't try to get back up. Jackson unsheathed the knife at the man's belt and cut his own bonds, then turned to Jamie. The moment she was free she was off, darting in the only direction she knew Logan would go. He'd already told her escape plan.

The plane leveled out as she moved to the rear of the plane. She passed through the bar on the way. The carnage inside was far greater than she expected from the still-teetering plane. Rubber pellets and discharged darts spoke of a non-lethal firefight, and Jamie scooped up the discarded tranq rifle near the back.

The alarm was already blaring as she approached the vehicle bay. Logan had opened the door. Jamie wondered at the implications of doing so at their altitude, but she had more important things to deal with at the moment. The wind howled as she stepped through the door, and she squinted against the cold as she stepped around the vehicles. He was there, staring off into the darkness, ready to jump.

"The whole time!" she shouted to be heard above the whipping winds. He turned toward her and keyed in on the rifle she now had pointed directly at him. "You were working for Davies the whole time!" She wanted him to deny it, to tell her Davies had only recently reached out. She might be able to forgive him that. She'd been a horrible friend to him these past weeks, ignoring him in favor of her own selfish desires. She wouldn't blame him if he'd sought acceptance elsewhere.

But his face told her everything she needed to know. "Come on, Jamie," he stepped away from the edge. "I was with you in that forest, saw what you had to do to survive. You made the same choice that I made. That you're gonna survive in this new world. Whatever it takes."

So it had been from the beginning, then. Had Davies planted him in New Brunswick in hopes that he would stumble into her? It seemed unlikely for a man as organized as Davies. Likely he knew where she was, knew where she was going, and had put Logan in her path. "Was any of it real?" she asked him, already knowing the answer.

"I'm sorry," he tried. "I really did want to have a drink with you." He turned to jump, and Jamie realized this was the last time she'd ever see him. He would get away, just another man who'd taken advantage of her trusting nature, used her and left. Just like Ethan. Just like Ben.

White hot anger erupted suddenly, and before she could even think about it she stomped over to him, heedless of the still open bay door. The wind was fierce here, and she had to fight to keep her feet as Logan turned around in surprise.

"You're right," she told him. "Whatever it takes." Hope glimmered in his eyes, and Jamie knew the moment she had him. He leaned forward, probably to kiss her, and she pulled the trigger. Logan looked down in shock at the rifle still held at her side, her finger at the ready. She smiled and felt satisfaction at the betrayal he must be feeling now. "Good luck opening your chute," she yelled, and pushed. She stood there and watched him fade into the night, his body slack from the sedative.

Jamie slammed the button to close the hatch on way out. Her hands were shaking from the adrenaline coursing through her body, but she didn't have time contemplate her actions right now. There were still enemies on their plane and she needed to find the others.

She found Abe first, standing in the bottom of the stairwell with a semi-conscious Davies tied to the rail. Abe cut an intimidating figure as he landed two devastating blows to the general's midsection.

"Abe!" she jumped. "You're really doing this." She had no wiggle room in the morality department - not when she'd just pushed a sedated man off the plane mid-flight - but seeing Abe's face dark with anger and determination unsettled her.

"Yes, I am," Abe responded, connecting again as Davies grunted from the force of the blow.

"Has he said anything about Robert Oz?"

"No," Davies groaned. "And I won't." He took a ragged breath and met Abe's anger with a cool defiance. "Even if Robert Oz was still alive, what use would I have for a lunatic who can't even get a job teaching high school biology?"

Jamie wasn't fooled. "We have it on good authority that lunatic is working for you."

Davies' head lolled toward her as he spoke in a mocking tone. "Once a reporter, always a reporter, huh?" He coughed and grimaced, probably from the bruised ribs Abe had given him. "Well, there's no story here, no matter how much you make me bleed." He directed this last at Abe, who just smiled back menacingly.

"Everyone talks, given time." He balled up his fist and planted it in Davies' gut, and Jamie winced at the sound it made.

"I don't know how much time we have," she told her friend.

Abe kept his steely gaze on Davies, but his words were for her. "Remember the venom dealer in Portugal?"

She caught on immediately, but hesitated. "Are you serious?"

"You said it yourself," Abe continued coolly, "we're short on time. We need answers. Get the venom."

Jamie dashed toward the lab as fast as she could. She heard Mitch and Jackson arguing about something, but from the lower level she couldn't make it out.

"That's not even true!" Jackson screamed. When she glanced up Mitch was gesturing animatedly, and even from this distance she could see he was angry.

"Hey!" she called, and both men turned toward her. "What's going on up there?"

"Where's Davies?" Jackson asked.

"He's with Abe," she gestured toward the stairs. "What's the plan?" They looked at each other silently, and whatever argument they'd been having was finished. Jackson stalked off as Mitch turned away, and Jamie tossed her hands up in frustration. "Great," she derided. "While you guys figure that out, I'm gonna go help Abe." She moved to the fridge, which thankfully had been bolted to the wall and locked. The venom that Mitch had procured from Lisbon sat in a case inside, and she pulled the whole thing out. She had no idea what Abe wanted, so she'd have to take him all of it.

Abe took it from her when she arrived, and he sifted through it almost methodically before pulling a vial out. "This," he grabbed a syringe and pulled some of the venom into it, "is the venom of the Inland Taipan. Deadliest snake in the world." Davies didn't seem impressed. "You are going to tell us what we want to know, or I am going to inject you with it." As Abe described what it would feel like, Jamie studied the general's face. His face was completely blank; he'd been trained to withstand torture. At the end of Abe's speech, he just scoffed.

"Just do it already so I don't have to listen to your endlessly inane clucking."

Jamie could only watch incredulously as Abe made good on his threat. Davies seized as the venom entered his bloodstream, and every muscle in his body tightened in response to the immense pain.

"Where is Robert Oz?" Abe demanded.

Davies just looked up defiantly. "Go to hell!"

"We know about the TX gas," Jamie tried. "It's gonna kill 2.2 million people."

He strained to answer as the pain stole his breath. "Gonna save _7 billion!_ "

"It's murder," Jamie argued.

"Murder?" he grunted. "The animals are slaughtering us. What do you call that?" A roar of agony cut off the end of his sentence, and the veins in his neck bulged as he fought the poison in the system.

"Abe, we've got to give him the antivenom." Jamie moved to the case, but Abe's sharp rebuke stopped her.

"No."

"What?"

"No," he repeated, then leaned in close to Davies. "What does Robert Oz have to do with any of this?" The venom was taking its toll, and Davies face was flushed red with the strain. "You are going to die if you don't answer me!" Abe cried. "Where is Robert Oz?"

"So what if I die?" Davies gasped. His words came in fits and starts as he fought for breath. "The TX gas will be my legacy. He'll make sure of that."

"Who?"

"Who do you think?"

Jamie and Abe glanced at each other in confusion, then back at Davies. He couldn't possibly be suggesting… "Robert Oz?" Jamie clarified. "He wanted this?"

"Wanted it?" Davies was struggling now, every word growled through clenched teeth. "The gas...the Noah Objective...repopulating...the planet with animals using clean DNA...it was all his idea."

As last words went, "It was all his idea," weren't the worst Jamie could think of. But she'd already killed a man today, but that had been a selfish mercenary who had wronged her personally. Killing a four star general in the course of a torture session wasn't on her to do list.

"I'll get the defibrillator," she pushed off Abe's shoulder from where they'd both crouched when Davies had collapsed. The antivenom had been too late, and Abe couldn't find a pulse.

The AED was in lab under the rear workstation, and she stepped over the mayhem to reach for the case now lying on the floor. She grabbed for it, but the moment she lifted it the bottom hinged unnaturally. It was broken.

Mitch and Jackson were huddled over something in the lab proper, but she didn't have time to worry about what they were doing. She needed to find something that could restart Davies' heart.

The sound of electricity crackling drew her attention, and she looked up at the colony of ants stowed safely in their tank. It would have to do. She used a spatula-looking utensil to scoop them into two glass flasks and hoped that would be enough. She was out of time.

"Where the defibrillator?" Abe asked. He was still doing chest compressions but Davies wasn't responding.

"Out of commission," Jamie lamented. "I got the next best thing." She held up the flasks in her hands.

"Ants?"

"A defibrillator delivers an electric charge straight to the heart," she reasoned. "Some electrically charged ants should do the trick."

Abe glanced down at the unconscious general, then reached for the flasks. "Do we have a choice?"

They delivered two jolts to Davies by upturning the flasks on his chest. He jerked but didn't wake. On the third shock, Jackson came barrelling down the stairs.

"What the hell is going on here? Is he dead?"

Jamie glanced up with an innocent stare. "Only for a minute."

Jackson lifted the phone in his hand to his ear. "Just hold on a second, Allison." Jamie rolled her eyes at the mention of their illustrious leader. It figured she was demanding something right now, in the midst of all this chaos. "Okay now what?" Jackson asked.

"I don't know," Abe answered. "They don't have an on/off switch."

Mitch chose that moment to make an appearance. "We are gonna lose this lizard if we don't -" He stopped cold as he surveyed the scene. "What the -?"

For a moment no one said anything, then Jackson held the phone out to him. "Someone wants to talk to you."

Mitch grabbed it and held it to his ear as he leveled a glare at Abe. "Okay, let me see if I can wake him."

Another jolt, and again there was no response from Davies. "What's plan B 'cause it's not working!" Jackson howled.

"It's hard to explain," Mitch was saying. Jamie wondered what Allison was thinking, and she took a little joy in imagining the woman floundering for an explanation and getting nothing. "And even harder to imagine," Mitch continued.

"He's back!" Abe cried, and Jamie sighed in relief. "He's back."

"You used the antivenom," Davies muttered. "You coward."

As Abe got Davies to a sitting position, Mitch took charge once more. "I don't know what happened here - and I don't want to - but we've got a lizard to save. So you, you," he pointed to Jamie and Jackson in turn, "come with me. You," he looked at Abe, "stay here with him. Try not to kill him this time."

Jamie soon discovered what the boys had been working on while she and Abe were handling Davies. The tegu had been injured in the assault, and Mitch was working to save him. He snapped on gloves and dove back in, the tiny camera he'd set up giving him a close up view of his work.

"He's bleeding internally," Mitch explained. "I need to find the wound and suture it."

"Okay," Jamie looked around helplessly. "What do you want me to do?"

"Grab that syringe," he nodded toward the tray of instruments.

She picked it up and held it out to him. "Here."

"No, I need you to drain the bladder," he directed.

"What?"

"I've only got two hands here," he was getting exasperated. "They're both wrist-deep in lizard guts. Come over here." He jerked his head sideways to indicate his other side. She moved automatically, though she had had no idea how to even do that. "See that thing right there," he pointed with his forceps, "looks like a little chestnut?"

"Yeah," Jamie leaned in close to the monitor.

"Just stick the needle in there and pull back on the plunger." She did. "Slowly," he stressed. "There you go." He was already at work tying the ends of the suture thread together. "Alright, that's enough."

Jamie tried not to think about the fact that she'd just stuck her hand into a living thing. She set the syringe off to the side as he shot her a sideways smile. "Well done, doctor." For the moment, at least, he seemed to forget he they'd even fought, and Jamie was willing to follow his lead.

Jackson emerged from the back of the lab with a tank and a spray nozzle. "I grabbed the de-icer in case our friend decides to wake up."

"Okay, tying off the bleeder," Mitch announced. Beneath his hands the lizard thrashed gently. "Uh oh."

The insides of the lizard were slowly crystallizing as it woke from its sedated slumber. "That's ice," Jamie murmured. It crept slowly across the lizard's guts and began to make it's way up Mitch's gloves.

"Okay, that's enough," Jackson stepped forward, ready to spray de-icer all over the lizard and the table.

"Just give me a second, okay?" Mitch protested, still tying even as the ice began to freeze his fingers. "Okay, I got it."

"Mitch, I'm not messing around," Jackson warned. "Back off!"

"Jackson, you can't do that!" Mitch glanced up sharply. "You're gonna kill him."

Jamie glanced at the monitors, specifically the little line that reported the lizard's internal temperature. It was rapidly decreasing. "Guys, his body temperature's dropping."

"Mitch get away from the tab -"

"Not now Jackson!" Mitch was working furiously now, stapling the soft skin of the tegu's underbelly closed. Both his hands were covered in ice, and Jamie saw him wince as he struggled with the stapler. "Okay, done. Grab the blanket."

Jamie spun and snatched the thermal blanket from where it sat on the freezer. She unfolded it quickly and helped Mitch drape it over the now agitated tegu. He scooped it up blanket and all as Jackson raced to open the freezer lid. Mitch set the animal inside gently, mindful of its injuries even after all the danger it had put them in.

Mitch tore at his ice-crusted gloves as Jackson shut the lid. Jamie watched as he blew into his hands to restore circulation and grimaced in sympathy.

"Anyone want a cold one?" she quipped.

Jackson laughed and pushed away from the freezer. "I'm gonna get Abe and tie up Davies' men."

"Good idea." Mitch stood up straight and winced painfully as Jackson walked away.

"Are you okay?" Jamie didn't like that he was still hurting, but she wasn't sure he'd accepted any sort of comfort she would offer right now.

"Fine," he waved her off predictably. "Your boy Logan packs quite a punch." She knew he didn't mean it that way, but his words were a reminder that she'd brought a traitor into their midst. It felt like an accusation, and despite telling herself she was being ridiculous she couldn't help but shoulder the blame for Logan's betrayal. "Where is he, anyway?"

Jamie panicked. She couldn't tell him the truth - that she'd pushed him off the plane after pumping him full of tranquilizer - so she settled for a half-truth. "He grabbed a parachute and jumped."

"Really?" Mitch's eyes widened comically. "I didn't even know we _had_ parachutes."

"Yeah, well, he's gone," Jamie rushed on. "Speaking of," she glanced around, "any idea where we're going?"

"No," Mitch shook his head. "Why don't you go find out while I clean up here?"

Jamie hated that they were still in a stalemate. She knew it was her fault, and that she needed to step up to apologize, but now didn't seem like the right time. So she just nodded and left, beating a hasty retreat to the cockpit. Trotter was still locked inside, and Jamie tried and failed a few times to gain access. Finally she gave up and went in search of someone who could help.

"He needs the all clear code," Abe explained as he cinched the zip tie around the last of Davies' men.

"Okay, what is it?"

"I don't know," Abe admitted. "Mitch and Chloe were the only ones who knew it. Mitch chose it and would only say it was a date of importance to him."

Clem's birthday. It had to be Clem's birthday. She jogged back up to her room and grabbed the stack of files she'd saved from Chloe's records. Mitch's was the third folder, and inside she found Clem's birthdate typed neatly next to her name under the "Children" heading. Jamie memorized that date and Mitch's birthday just in case, then ran back to the cockpit.

Neither worked. On a whim, Jamie tried her own birthday but still the panel remained red. Resigned to the fact that she would have to go ask Mitch himself, she made her way back down to the lab.

She found him cleaning the last of the tegu's blood from the floor. He deposited the paper towels along with his gloves in one fluid motion then turned to set the rest of his lab right. He stopped when he caught sight of her but said nothing.

"Hey," she greeted lamely. "I, uh, can't get to Trotter. Abe said you have the all clear code he needs."

"Oh, right," he adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. "I'll, uh, I'll do it."

He didn't trust her with the code. It hurt more than she thought it would, but she couldn't blame him. Her judgment had apparently been seriously impaired by her excursion in the backwoods of Canada. Still, she couldn't help but try one more time.

"I can do it," she told him, "I just need the code."

He blinked owlishly, then licked his lips nervously. Then it hit her. He wasn't being stingy with the code because he didn't trust her; he was embarrassed.

After a few seconds he surrendered. "It's 063015," he muttered.

Jamie knew the date well. It was the day after she'd been fired. It was also the day they had met. Air rushed from her lungs as relief and regret crashed over her like a tidal wave.

"Listen," she began slowly. "I…" She had so much to say to him, to apologize for, but nothing would come.

"You should go input that code," he said finally. "Trotter will be worried."

"Yeah." She cursed inwardly. Words weren't typically this hard to come by for her. He turned away to check on his computer desk and Jamie abandoned her failed apology attempt and went to figure out where the hell they were going.

The answer was apparently Mozambique. Jackson's mother was missing, and Allison had deployed a team to look for her as well as escort Davies and his men back to the states after they landed. Jamie occupied the time in her room. She couldn't seem to collect her thoughts well enough to speak to him, but she'd always been able to write. So she crafted her amends with pen and paper, pouring out her thoughts and feelings onto sheet after sheet. Her hand cramped more than once, but in the end she felt like a weight had been lifted from her.

As she signed her name she stifled a yawn and glanced up to check the time. It was almost two in the morning by her clock, though she knew that by the time they landed in Africa it would likely be closer to noon than not. Deciding a quick nap was in order, she tucked her letter into the drawer of her nightstand and switched off the light.

 _She was standing in a canyon, pitch black except for a light source she couldn't pinpoint. It illuminated a small area around her, showing her the rock walls on either side. She tried to follow one, hoping that it led somewhere, but no matter how many steps she took she was always flanked on either side by endless stone._

 _Growls echoed through the canyon, bouncing and rebounding upon each other until she had to cover her ears to muffle the sound. Eventually they drove her to the ground, hunched over herself and clutching at her ears to block out the onslaught._

 _That's when she saw it. The light. It was coming from her. There was a hole in the very center of her chest, like something had burrowed in and then burst its way through. Beams of light trickled out and faded into the gloom in a steady stream. She stumbled back grasping and pressing, trying to hold it in, to keep the light inside. But the more she tried, the faster it seemed to pour from her._

 _A warm weight at her back stopped her retreat, and as she stretched her neck she saw him. Her lion. His mouth gaped in a yawn, his white teeth gleaming. He chuffed once and moved his paw, causing her to fall onto her back at his feet. He shifted to lay along her side, and though it seemed like he was too large to do so, he rested his head on her chest just over the hole. She didn't dare move, both for the fear of scaring him away and the fear of losing what was left of her light. If he could save it - save her - then she would lie here forever._

Jamie gasped and woke, her hand frozen halfway to her chest as she clung to the remnants of her dream. It didn't take a genius to interpret it. She knew what she had to do, and the image of him standing at her side against the darkness was enough to drive her from her bed. She fished the letter from her nightstand and quickly scanned it. She fought against her journalist's instinct to edit, to rephrase, to omit anything that didn't seem polished or perfect. But, she reminded herself, it didn't have to be. Because she wasn't polished or perfect. She needed Mitch to read her thoughts as they were, unmarred by second thoughts or equivocation. She had poured her heart into the letter; now all she had to do was get Mitch to read it.

She found him at the bar nursing a scotch and finishing a crossword puzzle. Jackson and Abe were out searching for Jackson's mom, leaving Mitch and Jamie to clean up the rest of the mess Davies and his men had left.

He glanced up when she walked in and raised his glass in invitation. When she nodded, he reached down for another glass and poured her a few fingers of the dark liquid as she sat on the stool next to his. He said nothing as he set the drink in front of her, and they wordlessly toasted nothing before taking a sip.

After a few seconds of tense silence, he took a breath to speak. "What's that?" he nodded toward the folded sheets of paper in her hand. She looked down at them, then back again. Jamie wanted badly to just hand off the four page letter and run away, but she knew she needed to try to mend the distance she'd forced between them first.

"It's a letter," she said. "To you. I've...always been better able to articulate myself in the written word. But there is something I need to say before I give it to you." She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed, and though his face looked relaxed and calm she could see the storm of worry in his eyes. "I need to apologize. Both for that night in the lab and yesterday," she explained. "I just...you were right. I've been off balance ever since I got back and I need to find my footing again. But I shouldn't have acted the way I did, and I'm sorry if anything I did hurt you. That's the very last thing I want and -" her emotions swirled again and her throat tightened over her words, cutting off the rest of her apology. She could feel the tear that rolled down her cheek and she moved to wipe it away.

Mitch beat her to it. His hand was warm against her skin, and she sniffled softly as his fingers caressed the skin of her cheek. When he pulled back she looked up and found the strength to continue.

"I feel like I've been broken into a thousand pieces and I can't figure out how I go back together again. But I do know I can't do it easily without help, and not at all without you." It was probably the hardest admission of her thirty-odd years and, though it sounded entirely too dramatic in her head, she knew her life depended on his answer.

When he finally spoke his voice was rough and warm. "Well," he smiled just a little, "I guess it's a good thing I love puzzles."

She couldn't help it. The laugh bubbled up and out before she could stop it, and after a few seconds he joined her. She knew they were a long way from okay, but they'd taken crucial first steps toward their goal. Jamie handed him the letter and expected him to open it right away. Instead, he tucked it beneath his crossword reverently and picked up his pen.

"Do you happen to know an eight letter word for funeral rites that starts with an e?"

"What?"

"It's my last clue," he explained, tilting the paper in her direction. "I have to finish this puzzle before I start the next one."

Jamie chuckled and tried to focus on his question. She guessed pulling out her phone and typing the clue into a search engine would be considered cheating, so she had to rely on her extensive knowledge of words. Luckily for Mitch, Jamie had been broadening her vocabulary since she was six.

"Exequies."

Mitch looked down at his puzzle for half a second, then penned in her word triumphantly. "Done." He tossed his pen down and stood, swooping up his drink and her letter in one hand. "For what it's worth," he reached out and laid the other on her shoulder, "I'm sorry about Logan."

Her instinct was to recoil, to pull away from the sudden reminder of her miscalculation. But if the last twenty four hours had taught her anything, it was not to listen to that part of her mind anymore. It was that part that had sustained her in Canada, telling her to keep moving, to protect herself no matter the cost. But she was safe now, back among the only people outside her family who cared about her most. She would need to learn how to temper those knee-jerk reactions so she didn't make the same mistakes again.

So instead she returned his flat smile and nodded. "Thanks." She looked at the letter still folded in his hand and cleared her throat. "I'll, uh, be here when you're done." Mitch squeezed her shoulder once before leaving, and Jamie began counting the minutes until his return.

* * *

A/N: Guys, I really did try to have an entire chapter where they were mad at each other. My initial plan was to keep the tension going into the next chapter. Then I started writing and the plans changed. *sigh*

Also, I have to apologize. Due to an inconsistency in the show itself, I was surprised to find the sloth living onboard the plane despite no evidence that the team actually managed to snag it from the party in Vancouver. None of them had the sloth in hand upon returning to the plane in episode 3. If I am mistaken, please let me know. As such, I am going to go back and edit that chapter to reflect their additional passenger.


	22. Sins of the Father - Absolution

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 22: Sins of the Father - Absolution

 _An astounding revelation about the last skeleton leads the team to Helsinki, where Mitch comes face to face with a piece of his past he'd rather forget._

* * *

Mitch read the letter three times before he felt like he'd absorbed as much as he could. He'd made an educated guess on Jamie's mindset based on her behavior these last weeks, but after reading her unfiltered thoughts he knew he'd only seen glimpses of the breadth of her pain. His heart broke all over again as he read about her nightmares, about her feelings of hopelessness and despair and the loneliness she sometimes felt in a room surrounded by her friends.

But that wasn't all that was in the letter. The last few paragraphs spoke to her fears, the darkness in her dreams that she was afraid would consume her. One of her final lines stuck with him, and as his feet carried him back to her he mulled it over and over. It was odd in its incongruousness, talk of light and warmth surrounded by mentions of snarling beasts and an oppressive, consuming night. It was an enigma, and his mind wouldn't let it alone until he had answers.

She was right where he'd left her, perched at the bar and nursing the last of her drink. She was staring absently into space, the fingers of her free hand picking at an invisible speck. He took the rare moment of quiet to study her. The bruises from her ordeal had all but healed, leaving only slight discoloration on her neck and face. Her hair was longer, perhaps a bit more wild than when he'd first met her, and her clothes were less the form-fitting "junior reporter" attire and now more "whatever is in the closet, end of the world" casual. She was still the most striking woman he'd ever met, and he knew he was forever ruined by her.

He'd never been much of a _forever_ kind of guy. Even his marriage to Audra had been more a knee-jerk reaction to her pregnancy than a deep, soul-joining love. But with Jamie, Mitch knew he'd happily spend the rest of his life waking up with her at his side if the universe would let him.

His thoughts had run away from him, and when he refocused them she was staring at him. He could see the worry in her eyes and he gave her his best reassuring smile as he closed the distance between them.

He stopped next to her wordlessly, slid the letter onto the bar and reached for her hands. She surrendered them willingly and he pulled her to her feet. Once she was standing, he moved his hands from hers to frame her face gently. Mitch watched her eyes fall closed, and he knew from her letter that she was soaking in the warmth and comfort his touch offered her. He'd made the resolution immediately upon reading her words to make more physical contact with her, to reassure her of his presence and his support at all times. They stayed like that for a few long moments, Jamie with her eyes closed and Mitch with his memorizing every micrometer of her face. Then he pulled her in and pressed his lips against her forehead as she relaxed into him, breathing in deeply as her body molded to his.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" she asked quietly, and his huff of laughter disturbed the strands of her that fell across her face.

"Yeah," he told her. "As long as you can forgive me, too."

"What for?" He felt the muscles of her brow bunch in confusion beneath his lips.

"For not really understanding," he told her. "I knew you were hurting, and you've done an amazing job in the past weeks keeping it together. But I haven't been as supportive as I could be." He knew from her own admission that there had been times in the last two weeks that she had wanted to talk to him, to share with him, but hadn't felt like she could. Most of that was bad timing, but some of it wasn't and it stung.

"Well," her tone was just this side of sarcastic, "it's not like you've been trying to save the world or anything."

He laughed with her and rubbed her shoulders gently. "As soon as this is all over, you and I are going to go somewhere far away from any animals and planes and people and spend an entire week in bed."

"A week?" She scoffed lightly. "A bit ambitious, aren't we?"

"Hey," he poked her side and held her as she squirmed. "Was than an old man crack?"

"Nope," she managed to wiggle out of his arms but didn't go far.

He watched her bite her bottom lip as her eyes cut to the letter sitting innocuously on the bar between them. He wanted to ask her about a few things, to get clarification or details regarding some of her points, but he knew now wasn't the time. She was likely going over it all in her head, wondering if she should have revealed so much of herself to him at once.

Before she could second guess or backpedal on anything she'd written, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. "We don't have to talk about it all right now, Jamie." He'd guessed her thoughts correctly, and the relief that tinged her surprise at his words was visible. "This is a good first step," he told her, "and you've already jumped the hardest hurdle. You and I, we don't do so well with the whole 'asking for help' thing, so I know how hard this is for you. But nothing you could ever write or say or yell…" he smiled at that last part to take the sting of out it, "could ever make me love you any less. And no matter how jumbled up your head gets, I'm gonna be right here to help you sort through it all."

She hugged him again, this time with far more intensity than their earlier embrace. His ribs twinged from the force of it but he ignored it - her well-being was more important than his own discomfort. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders tightly, letting her stay for as long as she needed to conquer that small sliver of worry he could still see in her eyes. He heard her mumble something against his chest, and though he hadn't heard the words he understood their meaning.

"I love you, too," he whispered.

After a few more minutes of silence, she pulled back and wiped her eyes. "We should probably get back to work, huh?"

"Probably," he shrugged. "I still need to piece together that last skeleton and figure out what we're going after next."

"Last piece to the puzzle?" she teased. "I thought you had to finish one before starting another?"

He laughed again, this time louder and fuller. "Yes, well," he slung an arm over her shoulders and steered her in the direction of the lab, "we've established pretty firmly you've always been an exception to just about every rule I have ever made."

Two hours later he was at the end of his rope. The last skeleton was a jumbled mess of bones, and though he could see where some of them articulated or joined together, he could not make out the overall species. It was full of contradictions and deviations, and no matter how he looked at it he couldn't figure it out.

"Jamie?"

She was upstairs perusing the various news sites, compiling a list of possible destinations for their next adventure and checking on the state of things. At his call, her head peeked over the railing. "Could you come down here?"

"Still working on Pierce's mystery bones?" she asked as she descended the staircase slowly.

"Yeah," he heaved a sigh and set what he thought might be an arm bone back on the table.

"Any progress?" He just shot her a look that told her exactly what he thought of her question. "Well, it's got four legs," she gestured broadly. "How many things can that be?"

"Uh, about three million," he answered flatly. "That's how many quadrupeds there are on this planet." She looked a bit disheartened so he kept talking, hoping that maybe laying it all out verbally might spark something. "You see, our mystery animal is about the size of a really big lion, but according to these bones in its feet it walked in a plantigrade fashion."

"Plantigrade, sure." She nodded in affirmation, then glanced up at him. "What's plantigrade?"

"Feet flat on the ground," he explained, demonstrating the position with his hand flat on the table. "As opposed to digitigrade," he lifted up to his fingers, "which is up on its toes, like lions do. This," he let his hand fall back to his side, "is more like a bear."

"Okay," she shrugged, "so we're looking for a bear?"

"Oh, wait, there's more." He pointed toward the skull, where the jaw bones lay skewed across each other. "Range of motion in the mandible is about a hundred and twenty degrees, so that makes it more like a snake." He moved rapidly to the hind legs as his tone grew more agitated. "Also, there's the length imbalance on the front and hind legs, which makes it more like a hyena. On top of that," he gestured almost wildly now, "I got a bunch of spare parts. I don't know what those are." Even summarizing it all out loud hadn't helped, and now he was just frustrated with the whole thing. "So if by 'am I making any progress' you're asking me if I have any idea what these bones are trying to tell me, the answer is a big, fat no. With a big snake-hyena-bear-lion on top."

She reached out to rub his arm comfortingly, and he forced himself to take a few calming breaths as she continued to work the puzzle. "Well, is it possible these bones don't even go together?"

Footsteps interrupted his answer, and since Abe and Jackson were out that left one person on board who would storm in unannounced. Both Mitch and Jamie looked up as Allison came to a stop on the other side of the bone table.

"We have a problem with Jackson's mother."

"What kind of problem?" Mitch didn't really have the brainpower to spare right now, but it was clear from the look on her face that Allison wasn't going away soon.

"She's missing," Allison explained. "And according to Abe's last check in, she's the one responsible for the deaths in the camp."

"What?" Jamie shook her head disbelievingly. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," Allison maintained her cool, clinical tone as she spoke. At least she was smart enough to leave any personal feelings at the door so long as their mission was being threatened. "But it's not something we can affect right now. Once Jackson and Abe locate her, we'll figure out what to do next. How are things coming in here?"

"Great," Mitch deadpanned. "Except I'm trying to piece together an animal that doesn't exist."

Allison ignored his flippant attitude and turned to Jamie. "You mentioned something about the bones not going together?"

"No," Jamie corrected shortly, "I just asked a question."

Hoping to stop a fight before it started, Mitch quickly interjected. "Everything about these bones says they're from the same skeleton. Color, texture…"

"Well, if we can't identify them we're back to chasing storms," Jamie lamented.

The far door slammed back suddenly, and all three of them turned to see Jackson and Abe making their way hastily to the lab. Jackson was cradling a body in his arms, and Mitch knew from the way it was wrapped head to toe that whoever he was carrying wasn't alive.

"What happened?" He heard Jamie's exclamation, but Mitch was immediately in work mode.

"She was shot," Abe explained quickly. Mitch moved to grab the gurney off the wall as Jackson laid his mother down. "Sh-she mutated," he went on.

"My father must have given her the ghost gene like he did to me." Jackson unwrapped her slowly, like he was afraid of hurting her. But she wasn't hurting anymore. When he revealed her face Mitch stifled a gasp of surprise; she was well and truly gone. Her face, jaw and neck were covered in blood, and beneath it Mitch could make out dozens of tiny lacerations where the skin had stretched and torn. It was Kovacs all over again. "If he did," Jackson went on, "she'll have the same mark as me. A three pointed scar."

Mitch heard the undercurrent of rage he was hiding beneath his grief and realized they would need to do something before he lost it. Mitch moved quickly for his fluorescent light and dimmed the overheads.

"Okay," he switched it on as Jackson exposed his mother's body from waist to head. She was still wearing the clothes she'd died in, though they were torn and bloody. "This light will cause old scars and injuries to fluoresce. If the mark is deep enough." He moved the beam over her head, then down to her arms. A long eight inch scar glowed on the inside of her forearm.

"That's where she was bitten by a rhino calf," Abe explained quietly. Mitch moved on. Finally, upon reaching her left shoulder, he saw it. Three small dots in a triangle.

Jackson groaned in pain. "My father did this." He growled and pushed away from the table violently. "I swear if he wasn't dead, I'd kill him myself!" With a grunt of anger he lashed out, slamming his hands into the bone table and scattering the small pieces. Allison tried to reason with him, to calm him down, but he immediately turned his rage on her. "Maybe I don't care!" he roared. "About any of this! Do you understand?"

Mitch saw Jamie shrink away from the outburst, and he immediately moved to stand between her and the raving man. Jackson was losing control, and if he hulked out on them right now, in this small space, there was little any of them could do.

"Jackson," Abe stepped forward to try and calm his friend. "Maybe you should listen to Allison and try to hold on."

But Jackson just stumbled away, clutching his head like he was in pain. "I can't…" he mumbled as he staggered toward the lounge. Abe followed him worriedly, and once they were gone Allison turned to Mitch with a concerned stare.

"I don't know how much longer we're gonna be able to manage him."

Mitch had nothing to say to that, so instead he turned to make sure Jamie was alright. She gave him a small nod, so he refocused his attention on their mystery animal.

"He messed up my bones." Mitch rearranged a couple of pieces that had mixed together from the spare parts pile, and suddenly it hit him. "Wait a minute." His mind was already two steps ahead, and when he glanced at the pile he suddenly knew where they went. "Sometimes, out of chaos, comes clarity." The pieces began to fall into place in his head, but there was no way he was seeing what he thought was seeing. More bones came together, and he was dancing around the table in an elaborate waltz that he was sure made him look just a little crazy. "If I'm right about this, someone is going to owe me a very large, very cold double martini."

The last piece slotted in, a large tusk-like tooth that fit into a neat groove in the upper mandible. "Okay," Mitch stepped back with an incredulous expression, "I know what it is. But it's insane." He turned and grabbed the chair that Jackson had upended on his way out. Once upright, he sat down and tapped a few keys on his computer.

"Immortal jellyfish, ice lizard, earthquake sloth - it's all insane," Jamie pointed out as she made her way over.

"Yeah, well, none of those are extinct."

"What exactly are you talking about?" Allison demanded.

Mitch finished his search and hit the enter key triumphantly. "The one animal we need most," he sat back as the image filled the screen, "has been extinct for 14,000 years." When he turned around, they wore identical gobsmacked impressions. He stood and raised his arms in surrender before moving to sit on the stairs. He had no idea what to do now.

"How could Pierce have experimented on an extinct animal?" Allison asked.

"I don't know," Mitch shot back snidely, "'cause I can't read the mind of a guy who's been dead for a hundred years. Which," he added with more than just a little derision, "right about now sounds pretty recent, doesn't it?"

"Is there a chance that the saber-toothed tiger still exists."

"It's not a tiger," Mitch took perverse delight in the technicalities - particularly the way Allison fumed as he pointed out her misidentification. "It's a cat."

"Oh, for God's sake!"

"The saber-toothed cat went extinct during the Ice Age. That's the Pleistocene Era." He didn't know why he added that last part. Maybe because the steadfast reassurance of facts was all that was keeping him composed right now.

"What if you're wrong?" Allison continued. "If there is even a shadow of a doubt, we need to pursue it."

Jamie was still uncharacteristically silent. Mitch turned to get her thoughts, but he could already tell he wouldn't like them. She said nothing, but she didn't have to. She agreed with Allison.

But Allison wasn't finished. "If there's a chance - any chance at all - this animal's still alive then you and I both know that there's only one place to find that answer."

 _Oh God, no._

"No," Mitch refused. There was no chance in hell of ever getting him to voluntarily visit that man. "Allison, no."

"I am sorry," Allison shook her head even as Mitch refused again. "But this is our last shot and I am taking it." She walked over to the comm panel and pressed a key. "Trotter, this is Allison Shaw. We're wheels up for Helsinki."

Mitch winced and shut his eyes to keep a lid on the wave of anger that one word caused him. He could have gone the rest of his life - and a good portion of the next - without ever speaking to his father again. Fate, it seemed, had a different plan.

"Anyone wanna tell me why we're going to Helsinki?" Jamie asked.

Mitch knew he should make an effort to keep his answer civil, that any perceived agitation might be misconstrued as anger toward her. But he couldn't help it. "Because that's where one of the greatest cryptozoologists of our time has chosen to sit out the animal armageddon. And if you don't know what a cryptozoologist is, that's a 'scientist,'" he held up his fingers in air quotes, "who goes around in search of animals that may or may not exist."

"Like Bigfoot?" He was glad to hear the skepticism in her voice.

"Yeah, Bigfoot, the Lochness Monster, Easter Bunny...all that."

"Okay," Jamie sighed, "so we're going all the way to Helsinki to meet a quack?"

She didn't know it, but her rather obvious disdain for his father's work was doing wonders on improving his mood. Unfortunately it was immediately overshadowed as he thought about actually having to speak to the man who had devastated his mother and tore their family apart.

"Oh, not just any quack," he sniped. "This particular quack is a raging alcoholic, pathological hypocrite, a straight-up cradle robber...and he's also my dad."

Mitch hadn't talked about his dad much with Jamie. She knew he had cheated on his mother, and she knew he had stolen Allison and married her before Mitch could even process the announcement. But beyond that, Mitch had avoided talking about the man at all. He didn't even like thinking about him.

The plane rumbled as Trotter warmed up the engines, and soon enough they began taxiing down the runway. Mitch felt a surge of nausea hit him that he hadn't felt in a long time. He was up and off the stairs in a heartbeat, dashing for the nearest bathroom. He heard Allison call after him, but it was Jamie's soft footfalls that followed him and her cool hands that stroked his hair back as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's gonna be alright."

He laughed humorlessly and stood, angling around her in the small space to rinse his mouth in the sink. "In no version of a just universe is me asking my father for help alright," he told her. "But thanks for trying." His stomach flipped as they lifted off from the runway, and he bit down on the urge to vomit again.

They were off to see the wizard.

Jamie offered to go with them when they landed, but Mitch steadfastly refused. She looked like she wanted to argue, but then their eyes met and an entire conversation passed between them in the span of a few heartbeats. She relented with a soft smile, promising to stay on board and monitor the news feeds for anything relevant or important. It was busy work and he hated forcing her to choose that instead of being at his side, but there was no way he wanted her anywhere near Max any sooner than she had to be.

It wasn't that he was actually afraid of history repeating itself. Even if Max tried to hit on Jamie, she wasn't Allison. She'd already proven that multiple times over, and he trusted her more than he'd ever trusted anyone in his life. But still the thought had taken hold and wouldn't let go, and he thanked her silently as Allison called for him.

"We'll be back soon," he told her. Remembering the resolution he'd made that morning, he stole a moment to kiss her softly and run his fingers down the length of her arm. She gripped his hand firmly and squeezed, a silent promise of support and love. He returned it with equal strength before leaving her alone in the lab.

It didn't surprise him that Allison knew where Max lived despite having never been here before. It was a beautiful estate, with large bay windows and a picturesque view of a body of water whose name he couldn't pronounce. It spoke of money, and as Allison rang the bell Mitch was suddenly reminded what Max had done with all of his fortune and fame.

"I might vomit," he mumbled to no one as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Mitch, please," Allison hissed as the door opened and Mitch got a good look at a man he hadn't seen in almost twelve years. He was a bit more gray around the temples and about twenty pounds lighter, but he still looked the same.

"Well, well, well," Max Morgan greeted his unexpected guests with all the hospitality of a Southern matron. "Look who decided to swing by Helsinki. Prodigal son," he glanced from Mitch to Allison. "Favorite ex-wife. Come on in." He stepped back to allow them passage, and Allison smiled graciously.

"Thank you." She was exuding politeness and charm, though Mitch knew she held her own share of animosity toward their host. As the saying went, a tiger couldn't change his stripes, and Allison had learned firsthand why Max Morgan had never had a successful marriage.

"No party," Mitch glanced around curiously. "I mean, where are you hiding the barely-legals?" Mitch made no effort to disguise the revulsion in his tone, and Allison called him on it.

"Mitch."

Max just laughed. "It's okay," he told her. "He gets his grudge-holding from his mother."

The way he mentioned her, like she wasn't even important enough to name other than as the mother of his son, made Mitch's blood boil. He stamped down on the surge of anger as Max moved toward the bar at the rear of the house. "You remember her," Mitch tossed at Allison snidely. "Max used to refer to her as 'water under the bridge.'"

"Your mother left me," Max pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you were banging her best friend, so -" It was taking all of his willpower not to walk over and punch the smug grin off of Max's face. Mitch stuffed his hands a little further into his pockets just to be on the safe side.

"I was vigorous in those days," Max gloated.

"Let's not dignify your behavior, Max," Allison chided.

The older Morgan accepted the remark but made no indication it had stuck. "I've been following your exploits," he turned back to Mitch with a smile that could almost be called proud. "Damn shame that cure didn't work."

Allison was the one to pull them back on track. "Why are you in Europe anyway, Max?"

"Aside from hiding out in Helsinki with - let me guess - a fast boat and a clear shot to one of those islands for when the animals actually take over." Mitch no longer cared about hiding his disdain; Max knew he hated him.

But the man was as unperturbed as ever. "No, I just happened to have been in the neighborhood when everything went south."

"Looking for what?" Mitch jeered. "A cyclops?

"Don't be ridiculous," Max scoffed. "The Arre River monster, actually. It's a fascinating creature," he added with more enthusiasm. "It's like a giant moray eel."

Mitch laughed scornfully. "That actually makes sense. You in search of a mythical creature that resembles an enormous penis."

Allison cleared her throat in a warning that Mitch had no intention of heeding. He hadn't wanted to come in the first place; Allison had to have known there was no way he was playing nice.

"Ali?" Max coaxed sweetly. "You care for a drink? I have a beautiful bottle of Tignanello with your name on it." He was already moving toward the wine rack, as though he knew her answer would be yes.

"Actually, Max, this isn't a social call. The world is falling apart." Mitch almost smiled at the patronizingly soft tone she was using. "I need you to stop by the plane."

"Our plane?" Max asked, and suddenly Mitch wanted to burn the entire thing to the ground.

"My plane," Allison corrected gently. "Max, my plane."

"So let me see if I understand this correctly," Max glanced between the two of them with a self-satisfied grin. "The woman who left me and the son who hates me have somehow gotten themselves into such a pickle that they actually need me."

It was sickening to hear the smugness in his voice and Mitch wanted nothing more than to lash out and relieve some of the tension that was coiling in his belly. But they actually did need his input, and Max was proud enough to keep it from them if Mitch followed through with his impulses.

So he reined them in, shoving them down into a box and locking them away to be dealt with later. It took Max no time at all to gather his wallet and keys, and as they walked toward the SUV he was smiling widely. Mitch slipped into the backseat behind Allison, as far from Max as he could get. For the entire ride back to the plane, Mitch stared obstinately out the window and blocked out the conversation that was going on up front.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and at fished it out, eager for any excuse to keep on ignoring his father. It was Jamie.

 _How are you?_

He smiled briefly as he typed out his reply.

 _Peachy. You?_

Her text came just a few seconds later.

 _I've been watching news reports all morning about how the world is falling apart._

Mitch hated that it had become a habit for her, an obsession to compensate for the Reiden-centered one she no longer pursued doggedly. He often found her sifting through websites or watching a picture-in-picture of multiple news outlets as they calculated the death toll and regaled the public with tales of the latest horrors that had gripped the world.

His fingers moved quickly over the letters on his screen, typing out his reply.

We're on our way back.

 _See you soon. x_

"What are you smiling about?"

Mitch looked up to see his father turned in his seat, his expression one of teasing delight. In the rearview mirror he saw Allison's scowl, but she made no comment. Mitch just tucked his phone back into his pocket and made a point not to answer, schooling his features back to something resembling detestation. Max shrugged and gave up after a few seconds of sullen silence.

Allison maneuvered them onto the runway where the plane still sat. She'd already called Trotter a few seconds prior, so the bay door was lowering as they approached. Max gave a low whistle as they rolled up into the aft of the plane.

Max strolled through the plane like he owned it. He requested they visit the bar first, and Mitch didn't resist the urge to roll his eyes at the obvious request. Still, Allison humored him and they made their way in one of the outer halls until they reached the bar.

"Are we redecorating or just embracing sloth?" Max asked of the mess still littering the floor. The lab had been priority during their clean up, followed shortly by the vehicle bay and the kitchen. The bar had been an afterthought, cleaned only just enough to give them access to the liquor. Max stopped at the cabinets and pressed down on a hidden hatch, lifting up a door with an exclaim of delight.

"You saved my stash in case I came back," he held up two bottles, one about a quarter full of scotch and the other filled almost to the brim with Swedish Fish. Mitch needed a drink.

"No, Max," Allison still had that false, sycophantic tone. "I saved your stash because I forgot it was there."

Mitch watched his father saunter over to him and hold out the scotch with a hopeful smile. "Peace offering? I get to keep the fish." Mitch just stared him down and poured his own drink from the stock under the bar. Allison cleared her throat, obviously done with the standoff. Max just shrugged and tucked the scotch back under his arm. "Suit yourself." He popped the top off of the candy and dug one out. "Oh! Still good. Helluva candy." He chewed on it for a moment wistfully, then closed the container. "So, where are these bones you want me to look at?"

Jamie chose that moment to come barging in, her steps fast and determined. Something had agitated her, and Mitch could take a guess at what had done it. Watching the chaos of the world devolving with each passing day wasn't exactly a relaxing activity. She brushed right past Max without even glancing at him as she reached for the television on the wall. "You guys need to see this." She switched it on and stepped back, finally seeing Mitch's father for the first time. "Oh, hello."

Mitch took a breath and made the introduction as quickly and painlessly as possible. "Jamie Campbell, Max Morgan." She stared at the older Morgan for a moment before her ingrained Southern manners kicked in and she held out her hand.

Max took it gently and smiled widely, his voice oozing with charm. "Pleasure to meet you, Jamie."

Mitch felt ill again. "Please don't kiss her hand."

Jamie pulled her hand back as politely as possible before moving to Mitch's side. "They made an announcement today," she gestured to the newscast now blaring behind them.

" _Earlier today, a statement was made by General Andrew Davies of the IADG. Davies has confirmed that with the approval process all but complete, the Noah Objective will launch in what is now three days and twenty two hours."_

Near the back of the room, Mitch heard Allison curse under her breath. Apparently Davies had recovered from his little adventure on their plane and had leveraged enough support to get an actual timetable approved. The time for dawdling was over.

"Well, we've got a world to save," he pointed toward the lab in an effort to get his father's attention off of the woman standing next to him. "And, in some great cosmic irony, I actually need your help. So let's get this over with."

"Can Jamie come, too?"

Max's innocent tone ignited every nerve ending in Mitch's body. He could only imagine what his father was thinking and his fists balled at his sides as he bit down on the response that jumped into his throat. Instead, he adopted the same light, breezy tone that Allison had been using to handle the infuriating man as the four of them made their way to the lab.

"Yes, Max. Jamie can come, too."

If he wasn't in such a sour mood, Mitch might have enjoyed the look of confusion on Max's face as he got his first look at the skeleton lying on the table. He made a circuit, walking slowly around the bones as his mind tried to process what his eyes were telling him. Finally he gave a whistle and looked up with a smile.

"This is a saber-toothed cat," he said.

"Yes, Max, I'd worked that much out for myself," Mitch sighed.

"So if you know what it is, why do you need me?"

"Good question," Mitch grumbled, earning him a sharp rebuke from Allison. He rolled his eyes and changed the subject. "So we've got less than four days to find an animal that we all know has been extinct for, oh, 14,000 years."

Max was still in awe of the specimen. Allison was growing impatient. "Our information suggests this animal may have been alive as recent as a hundred years ago. And if it was," she added, "maybe there's hope we can still find one."

Max looked up skeptically, which was something for the man who reportedly believed that Bigfoot roamed the Pacific Northwest. "A saber-toothed cat?" He asked.

"We need to find out how old these bones are," Mitch pushed the conversation forward. "But there's soil contamination, so carbon dating's not gonna get us close enough."

Max leaned down and peered at a femur, cracked and discolored from time. "Well there are ways," he said. "But they'll confirm exactly what I'm telling you. This cat's been dead for thousands of years."

"We need to know for sure." It was the first thing Jamie had said since they'd entered the lab. Mitch read her body language and tone, recognizing her in journalist mode immediately. She was working his father, using his interest in her and her natural charm to get him to cooperate.

Predictably, Max complied. "You know, a few years ago I came across what I thought were Loch Ness monster remains," he told her boastingly. "I dated the bones, measuring the aspartic acid."

It was such a simple solution, obvious really, and Mitch mentally slapped himself for not thinking of it. He almost wanted to scream at Max to get off the plane, but he couldn't get past his own shame at not having come up with an aspartic acid test.

"So can we do this?" Jamie prodded.

But Max had been given an audience. "Alas, once again it wasn't Nessy," he was still lamenting his previous adventures. "And I, uh, do believe it was my last shot at her. The pursuit of the unattainable can motivate a life." Jamie was smiling flatly, humoring him, and Mitch had had enough.

"Max," he interrupted before his father could go off on another tear. "Can you date these bones or not?"

"Yes and no," Max answered quickly. "Bones have to be completely clean. Otherwise the desiccated soft tissue will just throw off the results."

"Okay," Jamie shrugged, "so let's clean 'em. What's the problem?"

"Because in order for the bones to be completely cleaned, they need to be boiled for 72 hours, which is more time than it sounds like you have."

But Mitch had another plan. While his father was talking, he picked up a tibia and walked quickly over to Moe's tank. "Or we could just do this," Mitch dumped the bone in with the jellyfish, ignoring Allison's exclamation of surprise. "Jellyfish are carnivorous," he half-turned and tossed his explanation over his shoulder. "I'm sure Moe here would be delighted to chew off any dry tissue, seeing as he hasn't had lunch yet."

"That's my boy."

Never had a phrase elicited such a visceral reaction from him. Mitch gripped the corners of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. Soft fingers slid over his as Jamie appeared suddenly at his side. He'd been so focused on not blowing up at Max that he hadn't noticed her approach.

"Speaking of lunch," she said. "Anyone hungry? I can make sandwiches." Neither Max nor Allison could see their hands from this angle, and Jamie's touch was enough to get him to relax his grip.

"That would be wonderful, my dear," Max drawled. "Would you like some company?"

"No, thank you. I can manage. You should get Allison to take you on a tour; the plane's got some new tech features and animal attack countermeasures that are pretty fascinating."

The look Allison leveled at Jamie could have razed cities. Jamie just grinned disarmingly and dashed off toward the kitchen. If it was even possible, Mitch fell in love with her even more.

"Well," Max clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "What do you say, Ali?"

Allison shook her head and smiled politely. "I wish I could, Max, but I need to contact some people in Washington and get more information on the launch." She hurried from the room with as much dignity as she could muster, leaving Mitch alone with his estranged father.

Thankfully, Max seemed to sense his son's barely concealed dislike for the entire situation. "Well, I suppose I can make it a self-guided tour. How long will it take that little guy to finish his meal?"

"Uh," Mitch glanced down at Moe happily munching away on the bits of tissue left on the bone. "Twenty minutes, half an hour tops."

"Alright," Max began walking away, thankfully in the opposite direction of the kitchen. "Be back soon."

Mitch let out a sigh of relief as his father disappeared. The last two hours had been beyond stressful, and he felt the itch in his throat that drove him toward the bar instantly. That was where Jamie found him, sliding a plate of food toward him as she slid on her stool. Mitch was already halfway through his first glass of Jameson, grimacing as the amber liquid hit his tongue.

"Mitch," she reached out and plucked the empty glass from his hand before he could pour a second round. "Look at me." He did. Her blue eyes were bright and piercing, and he could tell she wanted to say something but wasn't sure how. He waited her out, and after a few moments his patience paid off. "Something you said earlier stuck with me, and I wanted to talk to you about it."

"Okay." He glanced at his glass in her hand and his fingers twitched, eager to grab it and numb the pain of his father's presence with more Jameson.

"Earlier, when you were talking about your father," she began slowly, "you mentioned that he was an alcoholic."

Mitch shrugged. "So?"

"So," she moved his empty glass further away and set it out of his reach, "I want to make sure you don't make the same mistakes."

"I'm not an alcoholic," Mitch protested.

"No, not yet," she agreed. "But the predilection is there. You probably know better than I do the odds; that having a parent who suffers from alcoholism makes it more likely for the children to as well."

"I am _not_ my father," he hissed, angry more at the ring of truth in the words rather their speaker.

Jamie shook her head quickly. "Of course you aren't. And you aren't at a point yet where you need this," she indicated the bar around them. "But I'm worried that one day you will be."

She didn't know it, but he often had the same fears. So many times in the past year, especially those dark months when he'd thought her dead, he'd found it easier to dull his thoughts with alcohol rather than deal with the agony they brought him. At first, his conscience had reminded him constantly of Max and of how he'd treated those he'd claimed to love. But as the weeks wore on, that small voice grew fainter, then one day it didn't speak at all. The pain had been too great, drowning out all other thoughts and feelings to the point where Mitch found solace only in the dreamless black that Dalton's had brought him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured finally. "You're right, I just…"

"Aren't great at asking for help," she finished with a compassionate smile. "Well, guess what? This thing we have, it goes both ways. You can talk to me about anything, Mitch. I don't mind you having a drink when you want one, but whenever you feel like you _need_ one, please come talk to me first?"

Mitch nodded mutely and accepted the grateful hug she gave him, his eyes closing as her fingers carded through his hair. Her lips pressed into the crown of his head, then just above his eyebrows. When she moved to his mouth he pulled her in tighter, happily drinking her in as a much more effective alternative to the whiskey he'd been so eager to reach for just minutes ago.

"Is Moe done yet?" She whispered once they broke for air.

"Probably," he said. "We should go check."

"We should." She kissed him again, lingering just a little longer. Finally she let out a small groan and stepped away, her sense of duty outweighing the flush of desire he could see in her eyes. "Come on, professor." She held out a hand and pulled him to his feet. "We have a world to save."

Mitch felt ten times better as they all gathered in the lab for the next step of the tests. He used a pair of tongs to retrieve the bone, now slick and clean from Moe's attention.

"Amazing thing about jellyfish," he said amicably as he pulled the tibia out of the tank, "is they eat, poop, and procreate all out of the same orifice." Then, with a snide smile at his father, he added, "Kind of like you, Max."

His father took it in stride. "If I could do that, I'd never leave the house," he laughed. He took the bone from Mitch and scraped some cells into a dish. Mitch followed the procedure with a watchful eye, ignoring the satisfied smile Max shot him. "This is nice, Mitchell, no?" his father asked quietly. "Us working side by side after all these years?"

"Not really, no," Mitch told him honestly.

"We could turn over a new leaf," Max kept trying, pushing and prodding, hoping to get a positive reaction. Max was an eternal optimist - he would have to be, to still be so hopeful and eager even after all these years of chasing phantom stories and coming up empty. If Mitch really wanted to delve into the psychology of the whole thing, he would grudgingly admit that Max and Jamie shared more than a few similarities. But since psychology was a "soft science" that had no place in his lab, Mitch often ignored its implications unless it directly correlated to his behavioral studies.

"Trust me," he glanced at his father for a moment before cutting his eyes away. "There will be no leaf turning."

Max just smiled and finished with his preparation. "Oh, yeah, lovely." He set the sample aside to continue its acid hydrolysis as Abe and Jackson came back in.

"Hey guys, we just spoke to Dariela," Abe announced.

That got Allison's attention. "Yes, and?"

Max barely looked up as he shut the cooler door. "Give that ten minutes," he said triumphantly, pulling off his gloves and tossing them aside. "We should get some answers. Meanwhile, I'm going to reacquaint myself with my Scotch." He disappeared, but Mitch didn't care. As long as Max was out of sight he could breathe a little easier.

Jackson came to rest by Abe, looking better and more rested than the last time Mitch had seen him. "You know how we thought the ghost gene affected 2.2 million people?" The others came over to hear their discovery, and out of the corner of his eye Mitch saw Jamie watching him.

"Yes," Allison nodded. "That was Davies' projection. They're all going to be collateral damage if - when the Noah Objective releases the gas."

Abe's frown deepened as he dropped the other shoe. "Judging by what she just went through, our numbers are wrong."

"How wrong?" Mitch asked.

"Based on what she saw, there may be billions of people with the ghost gene."

That couldn't possibly be right. _Billions?_ Mitch scoffed and shook his head. "How could she know that?"

"Because when her convoy was attacked, the animals ignored a large portion of them."

"What do you mean ignored?" Jamie finally interjected, moving to stand next to Mitch as Abe explained.

"She said that there were horses, and that they bypassed dozens of people to come specifically for her."

"That doesn't mean they all have the gene," Mitch argued. "It could mean that she has something that the animals are keying into, honing in on."

"Like what?" Jackson asked.

"I haven't a clue," Mitch held out his arms helplessly. "But I do know that there can be more than one cause for an effect, and until we can rule out Dariela not suddenly becoming an animal magnet, then we cannot possibly make the claim that billions of people have the ghost gene. At least, not to any degree of certainty that would stop the Noah Objective at this point."

"He's right," Allison said. "We need to find out why those animals targeted her. Until then, it's just speculation."

"Okay," Jackson crossed his arms and glanced around. "So what do we do?"

"I don't know if you've noticed," Mitch pointed at the disarticulated skeleton behind him and the cooler where Max had put his prepared sample, "but we're sort of in the middle of something."

That answer didn't satisfy, and Jackson's tone shifted to indignation as he straightened and took a step forward. "So you don't think that the potential for billions of people dying the same way Chloe did is worth looking into?"

Mitch's irritation with their inane report ignited into a fury at Jackson's words. He was up off his stool before he could process what he was doing. Taking on a man who could spaz out and snap him in two was low on his to-do list, but Chloe had been his friend, too. Abe imposed himself between the two men before it could come to blows.

"I can call Dariela and see if she can meet us. A blood test will give us answers."

Mitch couldn't see Jackson's face, but his tone was contrite as he apologized. "I'm sorry, Mitch. That was...I don't know what came over me."

Mitch hadn't received a lot of apologies in his life, and so accepting them wasn't in his comfort zone. He nodded sharply and shuffled back to his seat, though he didn't take it. "Yeah," he muttered. "I can do the test here, see if she has some sort of anomaly that would make her more…appealing."

"And if she doesn't?" Abe asked.

"Then we have a bigger problem," Allison finished. "How long before Max's test is done."

"Should be now," the man in question appeared at the top of the stairs with a tumbler of scotch. He set it down on the bone table as he picked new gloves out of the box. "Mitch, can you give me a hand?"

Mitch knew very well he didn't need help; he was just trying to spend more time with his son. The attempt at father-son bonding grated on his nerves, but he couldn't refuse without looking petulant so he just grabbed some gloves and moved to stand behind Max as he pulled the samples out.

Once Max confirmed the viability of the prepared sample, Mitch grabbed the chiral specific fluorescent and measured out the correct amount to be combined with the aspartic acid sample from the bones. Once done, it was a simple matter of chromatography and they had the answer.

"Based on the aspartic acid levels, this saber-toothed cat was alive a hundred years ago," Max read the results with only a hint of disbelief.

"What is that?" Mitch tapped a spike on the chromatograph and tried to reconcile with any of the known elements he was used to seeing with this test.

Max peered at the data and sucked in a breath. "That means the bones showed traces of a synthetic bio-active compound."

Mitch reeled. "So we weren't just wrong about the extinction date. This animal…" he couldn't believe he was saying it, "somebody made him."

The others were understandably confused. How could someone possibly create an extinct animal with the technology from the previous turn of the century? Obviously Max knew more than he was saying, and Mitch was done playing nice.

"What aren't you telling us, Max?"

But he was already deep in thought. "You're sure these bones haven't been tampered with? Beyond a shadow sure?"

"Hundred percent," Mitch said.

"What does this mean?" Jackson asked.

Max chewed on his thumb nail for a moment in what Mitch recognized as his telltale anxious tic. With a surrendering sigh he turned to face the group and began to tell a story. "Three years ago I was in Chile, searching for what the locals called a sea monster. I figured what they'd seen was a giant squid, but their descriptions were oddly consistent with plesiosauria."

Jamie immediately turned around to face Mitch. "That's, uh, aquatic dinosaur," he explained.

When she turned back, Max nodded and continued. "Besides the fact that plesiosaurs have been extinct for sixty six million years, it seemed very unlikely that the Chilean locals would have ever heard of them - let alone be able to so accurately describe them."

Jackson finally asked what everyone was thinking. "What does this have to do with the saber-tooth?"

"They talked about a secret research facility," Max explained, "located off the coast of one of the Juan Fernandez islands."

Jamie just shook her head skeptically. "What kind of research facility?"

"They supposedly developed a synthetic bio-active compound that allowed them to recreate extinct animals." Max turned around to stare at the skeleton lying on the table behind him. "I didn't believe it until now."

"Max," Allison interrupted his lecture to refocus their attention on the mission. "We need a saber-toothed cat."

He twisted back with a conciliatory smile. "Well, sounds like there's only one place on Earth you can find it. They call it Pangaea."

Mitch groaned, unconvinced. "Oh come on, Max. It's a local urban legend. Pangaea? Seriously?"

"How else do you explain the presence of the compound?" Max pointed to the screen.

"So you - as a scientist," Mitch forced the word through his teeth, "- are actually positing that a secret island exists off the coast of Chile where some technologically advanced group - that has existed for over a century, by the way - have been bringing extinct animals to life? I'm pretty sure I've seen this movie."

"Scoff all you want, Mitchell. But it's there."

"There's a way to find out," Jamie broke in. "Something that scale? There have to be ripples."

"Ripples?" Allison questioned.

"Yeah," Jamie glanced at the other woman with a cool glance. "Ripples. Echoes. It's an investigative trick to find things that don't want to be found. They might be hidden, but they'll still need supplies. Supplies usually create a paper trail somewhere. We can also track if anything in that area is drawing more electricity than they should be."

"That could work." Allison dug her phone from her pocket and stepped away to make a phone call.

"I need my laptop," she said, starting up the stairs as she tossed instructions back to the others. "We'll need a map of that area, nautical maps and regular. We'll also need to pull satellite imagery of the area."

"I'll tell Allison," Abe said. "She can get us the satellite images."

"I'll find the maps," Jackson added, moving off toward the front of the plane. "Meet in the lounge; we can spread out there."

Once again Mitch was left alone with Max, and he did his best to ignore the smug smile his father was sporting.

"She's a smart woman, your Jamie."

"Yes, she is," Mitch answered curtly. He wasn't sure if he was agreeing with the first part or confirming the second. Both, he supposed.

"Can you imagine, though?" Max fixed his gaze on the remains of the saber-toothed cat. "An entire island where the creatures of the past roam free? Imagine what we can learn."

"Alright, easy Hammond. Let's not get carried away. First we have to prove this island even exists. Then we have to find it. _Then_ we have to capture a saber-toothed cat alive, extract a DNA sample, and concoct the cure for the mutation. All in four days." Laying it all out like that, Mitch wasn't too thrilled with their chances. Still, he had to try.

"I'm proud of you," Max said suddenly.

"Max, don't -"

"No, I mean it," he pressed. "I wasn't joking when I said I'd been following you and your team. I knew if anyone could figure it out, it was you." Max's smile was wistful now, like he was recalling a fond memory. "You were always searching for answers, solving puzzles. You remember that Rubik's cube I got you for your seventh birthday? You had it solved in less than a day."

Mitch did remember it. He also remembered the way the pieces scattered across the pavement the day he slammed it into the sidewalk in a fit of teenage anger. It had been a few days after his father's affair had been discovered, after his mother had locked herself in her room for two days and cried until Mitch broke down the door just to get her to eat something. He'd learned that day that his father only cared about one thing, and it wasn't his family.

"Stop," Mitch breathed. "Just, stop." He turned around and waved vaguely at the rear door. "Go inspect the bar, or eat your fish, or find your river monster. Just stop trying to play happy little family."

"We're both different people now, Mitch. I think if you gave me a chance, you could -"

"Could what, Max?" Mitch pushed up from his seat thunderously. "Forgive you? Love you? Pretty sure both those ships have sailed and sunk."

Max looked like he'd been struck. "I see," he murmured. "Well, I had hoped…" He sighed wearily and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to hang around for a bit longer, see if this Pangaea thing pans out. After that, I'll go." He turned to leave, but stopped with one last parting shot. "One last thing? Jamie?" Mitch held his breath, his fists unconsciously clenching at his sides. "I think you've got something real special with her, Mitch. Don't screw it up like I did."

Whatever he'd been expecting, a heartfelt - if unconventional - paternal blessing wasn't it. The air in his lungs whooshed out in one breath as he watched his father disappear up the stairs. He stayed in the lab for a few more moments, collecting his thoughts and shoving his emotions down into that handy box he had, before standing to finish his hellish day.

Jamie's brilliance paid dividends. They found the evidence they needed, and even being proven wrong didn't dampen the well of hope that sprung up in Mitch's chest as they realized the end of their journey was so close.

"So I guess this is goodbye," Max stood and shouldered the bag he'd brought with him.

"Yes, Max," Allison steered him in the direction of the door. "This is goodbye. I'll call you a car."

"Or," he pulled her aside and plied her with the alluring charisma that had won her over the first time, "you could drive me back to my place."

"Really?"

"Really," he reached for her hands. "Let your team do the dragon chasing. Stay in Helsinki with me."

"Seriously, Max?" Mitch could feel a sort of dark madness tightening in his chest.

"What?" Max turned with an affable shrug. "You're obviously not interested in her."

"Not that it would have stopped you anyway. It didn't twelve years ago." Mitch rolled his eyes and began to stalk away, but Max wasn't done.

"You should have said something if it bothered you!"

"Like what?" Mitch rounded on him furiously. "'Hey Dad, really appreciate it if you didn't skeez her out from under me?'"

"Well, in hindsight it was rather poor form." Max rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Get the hell off our plane." Mitch couldn't stand to be in the same room a moment longer. He turned and stormed out, not bothering to give his father the satisfaction of seeing how upset he was. Any room would do, and he ended up in the kitchen before he felt like he was far enough away to catch his breath. He threw himself down into a chair and leaned his head in his hands.

"He's gone."

Mitch looked up at Allison with a barely contained sneer. "Leave me alone, Allison."

"I come in peace," she held her hands up, and when he didn't snap at her again she sat. "I'm sorry."

Mitch's frown deepened. "Don't apologize for him."

"I'm not," she shook her head softly. "I'm apologizing for me." He glanced up at her then, searching for a hint of sincerity in her eyes. "I was young, I didn't know what it meant."

He was unsure if she was telling the truth, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Yeah, well it messed me up." That was putting it mildly, but he wasn't going to delve into the details with Allison.

She brushed a lock of hair away from her face and shuffled closer. "You didn't act like it."

"Well, that's what I do."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Still, here we are."

She had that look in her eye again, like he was a gourmet meal and she hadn't eaten in days. Mitch's head was spinning. Instinctively he glanced up, hoping Jamie would come through the door and rescue him.

Allison followed his eyes. "She's with your father."

"What?"

"After Max left, she jumped up and chased after him." Allison reached out and laid her hand on his arm. "Listen, I know today has been hard for you. Is there anything I can do?"

"No," Mitch pushed away from her and stood. "I'm gonna go lay down." Allison made to stand with him but stopped when he turned back. "Twelve years ago, you made a choice. You can claim you were young, or stupid, or hell, maybe just drunk. It doesn't matter. It was your choice. And it hurt," Mitch could feel the lump in his throat, but he forced it back down and finished his tirade. "But you know what? I'm glad things ended up the way they did. If they hadn't, I wouldn't have Clem. And I'd never have met Jamie."

Allison's mouth puckered as her plan fell apart before her eyes. "So what? You believe in fate now?"

"I don't know," Mitch backed away slowly, "but I do know that meeting Jamie is the very best thing that has ever happened to me. And there's no chance in hell I'd ever let you or anyone else jeopardize that. So whatever it is you've got in your head, forget about it. For good this time." He left her sitting alone and never looked back.

His room was a mess from yesterday's invasion. Books and papers were strewn haphazardly across the floor, and the drawers on his dresser were all open and askew. Miraculously, the only thing that hadn't been disturbed was the plastic bottle of Jack Daniels on his nightstand. It had somehow wedged between the lamp bolted to its surface and the wall and was waiting devotedly for him to return.

He wanted nothing more than to unscrew the cap and upend the contents down his throat. Maybe he could just forget this whole day ever happened. Then Jamie's face swam in his mind, his promise ringing in his ears, and he turned away to flop face up on his bed. He tossed his glasses on the nightstand and threw his arm over his eyes to shield them from the fluorescent light overhead - and to stave off the tears he could feel building.

His door whispered as it opened, but he didn't move to identify his guest. He was so in tune with her he could pick her footsteps out of thousands. She came to a stop next to him.

"What do you need?"

"I'm alright," he told her, though it was far from true. Jamie was dealing with so much already; he wouldn't add his significant baggage on her shoulders. But then she called his name - softly, like a prayer - and he peeled his arm away to look at her.

She looked like an angel haloed by the light, and he could barely make out her face in the shadows she cast. But he didn't need to see it; he knew every freckle, every worry and laugh line by heart.

"Both ways, remember?" Her voice was a soothing balm on his raw soul. "You can tell me anything. It won't make me love you any less." He smiled at the echo of his own words falling from her lips. "So what do you need?"

He knew the answer, as true and absolute as any scientific fact he'd ever learned. But words failed him, so he simply sat up and reached for her. She came easily, settling between his knees as he wrapped his arms around her and laid his head against her abdomen. Her hands fell to his shoulders, lifting now and then to comb through his hair slowly. There he stayed, breathing in the sharp smell of laundry detergent that lingered on her clothes and the subtle fragrance under it that was uniquely Jamie. Her shirt had rucked up enough to reveal a small sliver of pale skin just above the waistband of her jeans, and he let one of his hands drift around her midsection to caress the warm flesh. She shivered at his touch, and he finally found his voice.

"You," he whispered, leaning further to press a kiss to her shirt-covered stomach. At her questioning hum, he looked up urgently. "I need you."

They moved in sync, independent but complementary, as he laid back and she lifted one leg over him. Her body was warm and lithe as she came to rest on top, slotted perfectly into the space around him. Their mouths met and ignited an inferno, fueled by the madness of his inner turmoil and that perfect _something_ that had always existed between them. He hadn't expected the surge of terrible longing that her presence had spurred in him, and several times he forced himself to loosen the grip he had on her hips or lighten the touch of his tongue against hers.

"Mitch," she was heaving above him, her eyes lidded with desire as his hands roamed over every inch of her he could reach. Mitch knew he was probably being too indelicate in his need. He opened his mouth to apologize but she silenced him with a kiss, this one slow and deep. He could feel her love pouring out and surrounding him, blocking out any negative thoughts. When she pulled back she was smiling, and her hand slid down his cheek in a feather-light stroke. "I'm right here, Mitch. I want to help you. Whatever you need."

He understood the meaning behind her words and the firm pressure of her fingers against his pulse point as she arched into his body. He bit back a groan at first, but the next time she did it he finally snapped. Mitch wrapped an arm around her middle and rose up, ignoring her squeak of surprise as he reversed their positions and pushed her down into the mattress. His knee pressed firmly between her open legs as he pinned her to the bed, plying her mouth, her face, her neck, with rough, open mouth kisses. She encouraged him, reassuring him with moans of pleasure and consoling caresses.

His movements became ragged as, bit by bit, he surrendered the tight control over his turbulent emotions. Jamie didn't seem to mind the rougher treatment; in fact, she seemed to enjoy this more primal dance he'd begun. He heard her gasp his name more than once, and she seemed content to let him have control this time. He undressed them both, discarding their clothes blindly in the urgency that overwhelmed. She was pliable beneath him, open and responsive as she encouraged him to take what he needed from her.

Time became meaningless as he gave in to the frenzy in his soul. Once, he stopped to ask if he was hurting her; her reply was a pleasurably painful rake of her nails on his back and a plea to keep going. He did. Jamie had always been able to silence the demons in him, to make him feel worthy of the beauty and wonder she brought into his bleak life. Somewhere between her first shudder and his own shout of rapture he heard something spill from his lips that sounded an awful lot like a proposal, hidden within words like _forever_ and _mine_. Her own words of affirmation might have been an answer, though it was more likely she was responding to the feel of him in and around her, driving them both to where they needed to be. Still, he stole the words down deep in his heart, settling them there and holding them sacred. She was his, for as long as fate would allow, and he would spend the rest of his days striving to be deserving of the gift.


	23. Yellow Brick Road - No Place Like Home

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 23: Yellow Brick Road - No Place Like Home

 _Jamie works to disrupt the Russian support for the Noah Objective as Mitch and Abe scramble to find an enraged Jackson loose in Helsinki._

* * *

" _Jackson!"_

Jamie jerked awake, unsure if she had actually heard Abe's voice or if she had been dreaming it. Next to her, Mitch had collapsed - exhausted and sated - into a deep slumber. His arm was thrown across her bare stomach, and as she watched his back rise and fall with each breath she forgot about the phantom noise.

The gunshot was harder to ignore. Mitch bolted upright, his arm clutching at her and dragging her further in toward the center of the bed and away from danger even as she scrambled to get up.

"What the hell?" He was over her and on his feet in an instant, his hands fumbling for the clothes he'd tossed away carelessly in his frenzy. Jamie was right behind him, accepting the pieces of clothing that were clearly not his and tugging them on as he pulled his shirt over his head.

Mitch was two steps ahead as they raced for the lab. Jamie was surprised to see Dariela standing there, her sidearm tucked against her leg, and Abe lying on the floor. Part of the lab had been trashed, but Mitch had no time to mourn.

"The vehicle bay," Dariela pointed with her free hand. "He ran to the vehicle bay." Mitch was past her in an instant, moving to check her statement as Jamie came to a stop beside the obviously distraught woman. "I'm sorry," Dariela shook her head sadly. "I'm so sorry."

"You shot him?" Jamie glanced down at the gun, then back up at Dariela. If this woman had killed _another_ of her friends, Jamie wasn't entirely sure a simple right cross was going to be enough.

"In the shoulder," Dariela said defensively. "He was going after Abe."

Jamie turned to Abe to corroborate her story, but Mitch had already reached the bay door and threw it open. "He's gone," he reported.

"What's going on?" Jamie reached down to help Abe up, cupping his elbow to steady him as he got to his feet.

"He...he isn't himself," Abe said.

"He lost it again?" Mitch stormed back over. "What happened?"

"That's not important now," Abe pushed away from his friends and started walking toward the remaining SUV. "We need to find Jackson." He was avoiding the question and not doing a great job at hiding the fact.

But Jamie could piece together exactly what had happened. Abe had told Jackson about the source of his mother's injection, and that his father was still alive. Jackson had reacted exactly as Abe said he would. He'd snapped.

"Okay, look," Mitch darted to his computer and began punching in a series of commands. "Jackson implanted a tracking chip in his arm in case...well, in case this ever happened." He brought up a map of Helsinki, and a small greenish blip was moving at a neat clip across town. "There he is."

"Give me your phone," Jamie muscled her way in front of the computer as Mitch handed her the device. It took a few minutes, but eventually there was a second blip centered directly on the airstrip at Helsinki's airport. "There, now I've got your GPS, too. I can track both of you from here and hopefully get you in a position to cut him off."

He took the phone from her and followed Abe to the last SUV, leaving Jamie sitting in the lab with Dariela and Allison. When her phone rang she hit the speaker button and set it on the desk as she watched the blue blip speed away from the airport and out into Helsinki proper.

"You there?" Mitch asked.

"Yeah," Jamie watched as Jackson's dot began to move west. "Tell Abe to turn right at the next street."

"You're on speaker," Mitch said, and she heard Abe murmur something as the tires screeched. Mitch let out a quiet curse and Jamie bit down on the impulse to yell at Abe to be careful. Jackson wasn't the only one not thinking straight right now.

Jamie led them through the streets of Helsinki, hoping to put them on an intercept course with Jackson. But each time they got close, he would turn in a direction she hadn't anticipated and the chase would start all over again.

A horn blared over the speaker as Abe took another turn too sharply.

"You sure you don't want me to drive?" Mitch asked.

"Just tell me which way to go next," Abe's voice shot back.

When he spoke again, Mitch was louder, like he was holding the phone closer to his face. "Uh, Jamie, we just turned onto a street called Ra-Racoon-something. I don't know, there's too many vowels in this language."

She found the street name as their dot slipped across the map. "Rakuunantie," she said. "You're going the right way. He's just a few miles ahead of you."

"How did Mitch sneak a tracking chip into Jackson?" Dariela asked.

"He didn't," Allison said. "Jackson put it in himself."

Jamie turned to the woman standing just over her shoulder. "When?"

"In Holbeach, after his little grave digging episode."

Jamie opened her mouth to give a scathing reply to Allison's callous words, but Dariela pointed at the screen suddenly, "Look, he just turned south."

"You hear that, Mitch?" Jamie turned away from Allison and tried to focus on the task at hand.

Mitch directed Abe to turn left, and squealing tires told them he'd listened. Blaring horns and the sound of brakes screaming made Jamie wince. If Abe wasn't careful he was gonna kill both of them.

Over the line, they listened as Abe lamented his guilt in their current dilemma.

"You didn't shoot Jackson, okay?" Mitch was saying. "Your girlfriend did. But if we don't find him, we can kiss the cure goodbye."

Jamie saw Dariela swallow thickly as she took in Mitch's words. But Abe wasn't really hearing them. "I never should have told him about his father."

"His father?" Jamie could practically see the way Mitch's face scrunched in confusion. "Robert Oz...what about him?"

Abe's answer was hesitant. "He's alive."

"What?"

"And he's working with General Davies."

Mitch sounded livid. "When were you going to tell me?"

"I'll explain later." More screeching tires, more horns. Abe was losing control.

"You know I'm the leader, right?" Mitch was still angry, and Jamie hoped Abe didn't say anything more. If Mitch found out she knew and hadn't told him, there would be hell to pay.

"My God!" Abe exclaimed as the engine sound died out. He must have stopped.

Rumbling like a distant thunder came over the line. Jamie looked up in confusion at Dariela, but she didn't seem to understand either. Then all hell broke loose, and the thunder became a barrage of warping metal and the oddest barking she'd ever heard.

"Mitch!" Jamie leaned into the phone like it would get her closer to him. "Mitch, what's happening? Are you alright?"

He didn't answer. The crashing faded away along with the weird grunts, but still Mitch said nothing. Panic gripped her and Jamie was halfway out of her seat when she heard Abe's voice.

"The animals are acting just like they did in Mozambique," he said.

"They weren't coming after us," Mitch added. "They were running from something."

Hearing his voice alleviated her fear, leaving a rush of adrenaline that morphed quickly to anger. "Mitch!"

"Yeah, we're still here," he answered finally. "Apparently Santa left the barn door open."

"I'm sorry," Jamie pinched the bridge of her nose. "Are you telling me your SUV just got trampled by reindeer?"

"Yep," Mitch popped. "Guess that means we're on the naughty list."

"Can we focus?" Allison reined them back in. "Jackson's blip has stopped just in front of you."

"We see the SUV," Abe said.

"We'll call you back." Mitch hung up before she could protest. After a few more minutes, their blip and Jackson's began moving back toward the plane. Jamie ran a quick check, but no one with a gunshot wound had checked in to any hospital in the area. They could do little now but wait for Mitch and Abe to return.

"I need to make a call," Allison stated haughtily before slinking out the door.

Dariela just looked at Jamie and shrugged. "Gonna grab some chow. You want something?"

"No," Jamie shook her head. "You go ahead."

Jamie took advantage in the lull to grab a quick shower. She set the temperature to just under the highest setting and stripped down, taking a moment to check her reflection in the mirror. Up until last week, her hip bones jutted out from her body due to her severe malnutrition and bed confinement. They'd filled back out with regular meals and exercise, though she still bore some traces of her time in Canada.

Her right foot twinged and she looked down at the space where her big toe should have been. She'd read up on amputees and phantom pain, though she'd not experienced it yet. From what she'd read, she didn't really want to. She wasn't even sure if she could classify herself in the same boat as people who'd lost whole limbs. In the grand scheme of things, she was actually very lucky. Sometimes, when she couldn't escape the biting cold in her nightmares, she didn't feel so lucky.

Further up her body she found a few ringed bruises on her arms where Mitch's fingers had gripped her a bit too firmly in their passion-fueled lovemaking just hours before. She poked at them experimentally, but they weren't deep and didn't hurt much. Still, she'd probably wear long sleeves for a while until they faded; no need to give Mitch's mind more ammunition for his guilty conscience.

Another mark in the mirror caught her eye, and she leaned forward to inspect it. It was just above her collarbone on her right side. At first she thought it was a lingering bruise from her tussle with Mace, but that had been weeks ago now. As she got closer to the mirror, however, she finally realized what it was. A hickey. Mitch had left a hickey on her neck. She was going to kill him...right after she returned the favor.

She stepped under the hot spray and soaked for a moment. Her fingers mapped her own curves as her mind replayed the memory of Mitch's touch. It hadn't been the slow, maddening pace he'd set on their first night or even the enthusiastic passion that gripped both of them in the nights after. This - _he_ \- had been a different animal entirely.

She could tell from the moment they'd lifted off for Helsinki that this leg of their journey was going to take its toll on him. He'd never mentioned his father, other than a few brief contemptuous asides. After meeting Max, Jamie could understand why.

If she hadn't known anything about the man, she might have found Max Morgan charming. He had a charisma about him that drew people in. And, to boot, he was a great storyteller. But she'd heard enough, and every interaction she had with the man was tinged with the knowledge that he'd wrecked his first marriage via infidelity and poached his son's girlfriend and eloped with her without so much as an explanation or apology. He'd hurt Mitch, and in Jamie's book that made him the bad guy. So she treated him like one.

She hadn't been outwardly rude to the man - they did still need his help after all - but she was careful to keep her distance. When it looked like he wanted to withhold information, Jamie used the same tricks she used on her sources to get what they needed. When Max showed a little more than friendly interest in her, she retreated and tossed Allison between them as a distraction. And when Max had refused to take the hints Mitch gave him, refused to let his son have his peace, Jamie had stepped up to the plate.

" _Hey, Max?" She had to jog to catch up to him before he made it to the hatchway. She was still a little off balance, but thankfully he didn't seem to notice as he turned with an inquisitive smile. She held out the jar she'd swiped from the counter top. "You forgot your fish."_

" _Thank you," he accepted the jar gratefully._

" _You know," Jamie rocked back on her heels. "I'm glad I met you."_

" _You are?" He seemed genuinely surprised, and maybe a little flattered. "Why's that?"_

" _Because now I understand why Mitch is so…"_

" _Irritating?" Max supplied lightly._

" _Withdrawn," Jamie corrected firmly. "You have no idea what you did to him, do you?" Max started to protest, but Jamie wasn't done. "You're not that stupid, Max. Come on, put the pieces together. You cheated on his mom, abandoned your family, maintained sporadic contact throughout his adolescence…" It was all conjecture, guesses from what little Jamie had gleaned from Mitch's brief mentions. Judging from Max's expression, she wasn't too far off the mark. "And just when he thinks things are turning around, that his father actually wants to reconnect and become a part of his life, you swoop in and take his legs out from under him again by stealing his girlfriend." Max shook his head, obviously too stunned by her sudden assault to say anything. "It's a wonder he can trust anyone at all."_

" _He trusts you," Max said finally. He was more subdued now, a little unsure, and for a moment Jamie thought she might have seen a glimpse of the real Max Morgan beneath the mask of aloofness he wore._

" _He does," Jamie agreed. "And I trust him. More than anyone in the world."_

 _Max thought on that for a moment, then sighed. "My life's work has been the endless search for the mythical. And really, what's more mythical - more out of reach - than love?"_

" _Love's not out of reach, or mythical at all," Jamie countered. "Life can be a bitch, and sometimes navigating it seems impossible. But love? Love is simple. With the right person."_

" _And Mitch," Max looked up as though he could see his son through the walls of the plane, "he's your right person?"_

" _He is," Jamie answered easily. "And I hope I'm his."_

 _Max smiled wanly at that. "Then I'm glad he found you, Jamie Campbell. And I know you might not believe me, but I do love my son." He glanced down at his jar of fish sadly. "Will you...will you tell him that? For me?"_

" _I will," Jamie agreed. "When he's ready to hear it."_

 _Max nodded, knowing he could ask no more of her than that. "Thank you."_

" _Goodbye, Max."_

Jamie hadn't gotten the chance to tell Mitch about her little chat with his father, and he hadn't asked. Instead, when she found him in his room, he'd been so despondent that she'd immediately sought for anything she could do to alleviate his pain. She'd expected to spend the night with him and had even prepared for the way his touch screamed out his want of her. She hadn't expected that his need would turn to such an urgent yearning, or that the hands that had so gently cradled her during her night terrors would suddenly be so hard and rough against her.

Jamie gasped as the sensations of their evening washed over her again. The memory of his mouth worshipping her skin, of his body above her, driving out the demons in his mind with each push of his hips against hers, all replayed in vivid technicolor in her mind. She shivered under the cascade of near-scalding water, and before she could think about cranking the heat up further she shut the water off. She needed to focus, to help the team find Jackson before it was too late. The rest could wait until later.

Jamie found Dariela in the bar munching on the remains of a veggie tray. Allison was curled up on the sofa with her laptop open, but her expression told Jamie she wasn't enjoying whatever she was reading. Footsteps grabbed everyone's attention, and Jamie let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding as Mitch and Abe walked into the room.

"We found the car, but no Jackson," Mitch reported as he shed his jacket. "No sign. He's gone."

"I checked all the hospitals in Helsinki," Jamie said. "No gunshot victims."

"Well, I don't think medical attention's his priority right now," Mitch shot back curtly. She knew he was tired and frustrated and probably just a little scared, so she didn't take offense.

"I shot him in the shoulder," Dariela added. "Tends to sting a little."

"Well you speared Kovacs through the chest and he kept coming." Mitch ended up behind the bar as the others gathered on the stools. "Look, the mutation causes an adrenaline rush," he explained. "It blocks the transmission of pain. He's not feeling anything right now."

"Jackson is not Kovacs," Abe argued.

"No, not yet." Mitch reached under the bar and grabbed the first bottle he could find. He set it on the counter with a dull thud. "Look, the brain has three levels. One controls logic, one controls emotion. The other is reptilian. Right now," he screwed the cap off the vodka, "his reptilian instincts are completely overriding the logic."

"Fight or flight," Jamie translated. It was a feeling she knew well. Mitch's look of understanding told her that he'd followed her train of thought. "We need to find him now. The Noah Objective is days away, and we still need a saber-toothed cat."

Dariela whirled. "Aren't those extinct?"

Jamie felt an almost perverse glee at the confusion on her face. "Not on an island called Pangaea." She knew it didn't clear anything up - and in fact probably created more questions - but they didn't have time to get into the details. They had more important things to worry about.

Mitch seemed to agree. "We can't do anything without Jackson."

"Because he's the incubator?" Dariela had apparently accepted the crazy and moved on.

"Yes," Mitch poured a bit of vodka into his glass, stopping at a finger or two at Jamie's pointed look. "I've been working on an anti-rejection drug, just in case his body can't handle the cure. I mean," he capped the bottle and took a sip of his drink, "I'm going to be introducing seven genomic fossils into his DNA. If his body rejects it, no more cure."

It was harrowing to think that they could still fail, even after all they'd been through. Jamie tried to call on that confident optimism she used to have, but all she could think about was how it could all go wrong. With the way things had gone for them in the last year, Jamie wasn't going to hold her breath.

"I think I know where he is." Everyone turned to Abe, and the man licked his lips as he laid out his thought process. "He'd want to find his father - get answers as to why he gave Jackson the ghost gene in the first place."

Jamie could think of only one person who knew where Jackson's father was. "We need Davies," she said. "He knows where Robert Oz is."

"General Davies is in Washington," Allison joined them from the back of the room with a grim expression. "He's prepping for the TX gas launch. I just got an update, but with commercial flights suspended Jackson won't get his hands on him unless he swims the Atlantic."

Jamie had a feeling something like a moratorium on air traffic wasn't going to stop Jackson from getting to his father. "Well, the only way out of the country is by airplane, and the only planes leaving are military."

"He could be going to a nearby base," Abe finished for her.

Jamie nodded. "We need footage from there." She turned her head to give Allison a expectant stare. "Can you get that?"

Allison didn't look terribly thrilled with the hint of command in Jamie's voice. "Sure," she agreed coolly. "I'll send an order."

"Great," Mitch stepped back from the bar and looked at Abe. "We'll get to that base."

"Not so fast," Allison stopped him. "I need you here."

"What's more important than Jackson?" Mitch's tone said he didn't think there was a suitable answer.

"Mass genocide," Allison tried anyway. "Dariela said that the horses ignored everyone she was traveling with, but came after her. That means they could all have the ghost gene. A lot more people could die than we thought."

"Look, maybe I was wrong." There was a hesitation in Dariela's delivery that tweaked Jamie's interest, and a sidelong glance confirmed there was definitely something the other woman wasn't saying. "There could be another reason," she hedged.

"What reason could that be?" Allison seemed to sense something was wrong, too.

"Don't know," Dariela shrugged. "I'm not the scientist."

Mitch was done with the chatter. "Allison, what do you want me to do?"

She sighed wearily. "Look, Russia is thinking of pulling out of the Noah Objective, but Davies needs their airspace to launch the gas."

"I don't speak Russian," Mitch held out his hands impertinently.

"No, you speak science. I need you to come to the embassy with me and convince the Minister of Defense that we're close to a cure."

Mitch shook his head defiantly. "Without Jackson, there is no cure. So I'm gonna go get him, okay?"

"No, you're not."

Jamie clenched her fist beneath the bar and bit her tongue in an effort to keep from snapping at the woman. Allison's order rendered everyone silent as they waited for Mitch's reply. He just squared up and raised his chin as he gave her his answer.

"Watch me." He left her standing there stunned and followed Abe out the door.

Jamie and Dariela stayed, and Allison's displeasure was palpable as she looked at the other two women, almost daring them with her silence to say something. They didn't. Jamie chanced a look and barely held back the urge to shrug helplessly. She wasn't sure why, but she almost felt bad for Allison. She was under the illusion that she had any control over this team, and it made Jamie miss Chloe more. Chloe, at least, had understood that directing this team was a lot more like herding than applying direct pressure.

Allison left them with as much dignity as she could muster, her heels tapping out a quick rhythm on the floor. Jamie looked over at Dariela, shared a muffled snicker with her, and then tapped the top of the bar with her hands.

"I should go see if there's any way to track Jackson." Jamie pushed up and stood. "Maybe I can find some ripples."

As it turned out, they didn't need ripples. Jackson had attacked a hospital, prompting a citywide manhunt and a rather prominent story on the global news. Abe and Mitch had gone out immediately in search of him, hoping to figure out where he'd gone by visiting the scene. It wasn't much of a lead, but it was all they had right now. Jamie would stay behind and look for any more reports that would let them know where Jackson might have gone. Allison was still holed up in the lounge; with the Noah Objective now only days away, she was scrambling to find anything that could delay it just a little longer.

Jamie retrieved her laptop and settled in the meeting room just off the lab. She checked every local news site, but since she didn't speak Finnish it was hard to find any useful information. She broadened her search worldwide, looking for anything that might have caught the attention of those news sites that had dedicated themselves to reporting events related to the animal uprising. Jamie had to sift through several reports, each worse than the last, but there was no mention of Finland.

Things were getting worse. South America was slowly being overrun by animals, and those that were lucky enough to find a way off the continent were having a hard time finding a place to go. In America, safe zones were filled to capacity, causing tensions to rise. One terrifying group actually advocated for anyone over the age of fifty to be kicked out of the shelters, opening space for those who would be useful in populating the human race if and when the madness ended. Jamie immediately thought about Mitch's mother. She'd gone to a California shelter with Ethan, Jamie's ex. She was likely still there, alone and frightened.

Jamie set alerts for any mention of Finland or an attack nearby and began a new search. This one took a bit of digging, but eventually Jamie had a location and number. She dialed it, leaning back in her seat as she tapped one long finger on the edge of her laptop as it rang.

"Zone Four." The woman who picked up sounded young, too young to be manning the phones at a major safe zone, but Jamie couldn't worry about that now.

"Yes, hi, my name is Jamie Campbell. I need to speak with whomever keeps track of the residents in your safe zone. I'm looking for someone specific."

"Hold, please." Jamie heard a click, then silence. There was no hold music, nothing to indicate the woman hadn't simply hung up on her. But she waited, and a few moments later she was rewarded.

"This is Major Daniels."

"Major," Jamie adopted her best professional tone, "thank you for answering so quickly. I am looking for a woman who came to your safe zone during the summer last year."

"Last summer?" He asked. "We've had thousands of people come and go since then."

"I understand it's a longshot, but this is important."

What's the name?"

"Last name Morgan," Jamie said. "I don't remember her first name, but she's late fifties, early sixties. She came from the Lakewood area in Los Angeles. She probably came in with a man named Ethan Boyd."

Jamie heard him typing, and after a moment he took a breath. "I have a Dianne Morgan that fits that description."

"Yes!" Jamie jumped in her seat and sat up straighter at the familiar name. "I need to speak with her."

"It's almost five in the morning," Daniels argued. "And all of our residents have allotted times to speak with loved ones. Mrs. Morgan's next slot isn't for another four days."

They didn't have four days, but Jamie wasn't going to tell him that. "I'm willing to bet, in all the time she's been there, she's never used her time," Jamie bargained. "Please, Major. I work with her son, and she hasn't spoken to him in months. I just need a few minutes." She didn't say that Dianne's son wasn't actually with her right now, knowing he'd likely tell her to wait until Mitch had returned.

After a few seconds she heard him sigh on the other end. "Give me a few minutes. I'll get her and set up a video chat line. I need your connection information."

Jamie gave him what he needed to call her personal laptop, then thanked him profusely. She wished Mitch was here so he could talk to her directly, but just knowing his mother was okay would hopefully be enough. Jamie's finger hovered over the green button, and when her computer buzzed she tapped it a little more forcefully than necessary.

Jamie had only spoken to the woman on the phone once, very briefly, months ago in Brazil. She knew little about Dianne Morgan except that she had been a teacher in Alabama, and that she'd moved out to California to be closer to her family after retiring. Jamie's mental image of a matronly woman with gray hair and a mischievous smile had been fairly close to the mark.

Dianne's silver-blonde hair fell a little past her shoulders, wavy and frazzled like she ran her hands through it constantly. She had green eyes and an angled face that bore the evidence of her years when she frowned. Her glasses were halfway down her nose, and her chin was raised slightly as she peered at Jamie through the camera.

"You're not Mitch," Dianne said.

Jamie shook her head softly. "No, ma'am. I...work with him, though." She held off on any further revelations until she knew better how Dianne would take the news. "We spoke on the phone last summer."

Recognition lit on the older woman's face. "Jamie Campbell?"

"Yeah," Jamie laughed. "Good memory."

"Mitch said you died in the plane crash."

"I, uh, almost did. A Canadian fisherman found me and took me back to his home, nursed me back to health." Jamie rubbed her thigh absently where the ragged scar from her injury sat just beneath the denim of her jeans. "Unfortunately, I was in and out of consciousness for a while, so I couldn't let anyone know I had survived. I finally managed to get a hold of Mitch about a month ago."

"Well, I'm glad. He -" she stopped abruptly, then cleared her throat. Jamie wondered what Dianne had been about to say. She could guess, of course, if Mitch had talked to his mother any time after the crash. Jamie had read enough of Chloe's journal entries to know he hadn't handled things well.

"Ethan talked about you a lot on our way to the safe zone." Dianne's tone gave Jamie no indication what kind of things Ethan might have said about her. She hoped it was nothing too bad. "Where's Mitch?" Dianne craned her neck as though she could see around Jamie.

"He's...he's not here right now," Jamie told her. She hoped Major Daniels hadn't stayed around; he might not appreciate the half-truths Jamie had given him to get Mitch's mom on the phone. "He went out to look for a friend of ours," Jamie explained. "We're in Finland right now."

"Finland," Dianne's face morphed into an expression Jamie was familiar with. If things weren't so serious, Jamie might have laughed at the identical expression of disgust shared by Dianne and her son. "Mitch went to see his father?"

"Not voluntarily," Jamie answered ruefully. "But yes, we needed his help. You know that your son is working to solve the animal problem?"

"I know he was," Dianne answered. "Before the plane crash. We...we haven't spoken much since just after the Reiden hearing." She laid her arms on the table in front of her and leaned in. "How is he?"

"He's good," Jamie nodded quickly. "We're working on a new cure. I'm sure you've heard about the Noah Objective?" Dianne Morgan scoffed so viciously that Jamie had to stifle a smile. "Yeah, we feel the same way. But we're trying to find an alternative before they launch in three days."

"Well, for the world's sake I hope you succeed." Dianne looked up at something off screen, then back at Jamie. "Major Daniels says he needs his office back. Listen, can you tell Mitch...tell him I love him."

"Actually, you could tell him yourself. I can record a video for him if you want? I'm not sure when the next time he'll be available to call." Jamie didn't say what she was actually thinking - that she wasn't sure if the world was going to end in three days and he might never get the chance to call.

"Would you?" Dianne's eagerness solidified Jamie's decision.

"Of course," Jamie navigated to another program and set up the video recorder. "Okay," she pressed the red button, "go." Jamie moved away from the screen as Dianne recorded her message for Mitch. She felt like a voyeur, listening in on a private words between mother and son. The least she could do was stand out of view of the camera, give Dianne the impression of privacy.

"Hi Mitch," Dianne's voice filled the room as Jamie leaned against the far wall. "I'm not sure how much time I have, so I'll be brief. I don't know what's happening out there in the world, but from what Jamie told me it sounds like you're right in the middle of it." Jamie swallowed thickly at the worry in the woman's voice. "I want you to be careful. You hear me? I know you have a tendency to throw yourself all in, and sometimes you forget to take care of yourself. But you can't forget, okay?" Dianne's voice broke on the last word, and Jamie could imagine the tears she was holding back. "I don't know if... I'll be able to see you again, so I want you to know that I love you so much, and I'm proud of you. Of the man you've become. And no matter what happens, we'll always have Turtletown." She laughed wetly, then cleared her throat. "Jamie?"

"Yeah," Jamie sat back down in front of the screen and stopped the recording. "I'm here."

"Thank you." Dianne's eyes were shining with unshed tears. "For this, and for looking out for Mitch. I could tell from our talk months ago that he cares a great deal for you. Losing you...it hurt him."

"I know," Jamie was fighting her own tears now. "I care a great deal for him, too." She could see in the older woman's gaze that she understood her meaning immediately. "And I'll make sure to give him your message just as soon as he gets back."

"Thank you," Dianne's smile was one Jamie knew well; she'd seen it enough times on Mitch to recognize the gratitude in her eyes. "Take care, Jamie."

"Bye, Ms. Morgan." The image winked out and Jamie sat back in relief. Mitch's mom was okay...for now. If things got worse, however, she wasn't sure what would happen.

"Any luck?" Allison had apparently finished whatever she had been working on and was now standing with her hands folded over her chest, staring down at Jamie.

"Nothing," Jamie shook her head and reopened the tab with her news search.

"Well then, I need to talk to you about something important. About you and Mitch."

Jamie raised an eyebrow incredulously. "With what's going on with Jackson right now, you want to take time out to discuss personal business?"

"This mission is the only thing that matters, "Allison continued. "I need Mitch one hundred percent focused if we hope to have a chance to succeed."

"And you think that Mitch and I being together, that's a distraction?" Jamie stood up slowly, ready to go to war if she had to. Allison was crossing a line and Jamie was going to let her know it.

"Hey ladies," Dariela stuck her head in, oblivious to what she'd just interrupted. "We've got a problem. The Russian Minister of Defense is in our kitchen."

It was just ludicrous enough to believe, and Jamie swallowed the fire in her throat as she followed Allison and Dariela through the hall of the plane. Sure enough, two men with nice suits and square jaws were waiting patiently at the island when they walked in.

Allison was immediately in politician mode. "Hello."

"Hello Ms. Shaw." Leonid Ivankov spoke English with a thick Russian accent that reminded Jamie of the old spy movies her cousins used to watch. The man standing just off to the side and behind the minister was obviously a bodyguard of some kind, and he remained stoically silent as Allison took control of the conversation.

"Minister Ivankov, what a surprise. Doctor Morgan and I were going to come to you."

"I had to see this for myself," Ivankov answered curtly. "Your team. What you do here. Tell me," he glanced around slowly, "where is Doctor Morgan?"

Jamie remembered what Allison had told her in the hall just before they entered. She was afraid if the Russians found out the mutation had jumped to humans, they would throw their support behind the Noah Objective. Jamie decided a half-truth was better than a lie.

"There's an animal we need for the cure," she said quickly. "He's out hunting it."

Ivankov turned his cool gaze on her. "And you are?"

"Jamie Campbell."

"Ah," the minister nodded thoughtfully. "You are the girl with the leopard. You had the cure, but it failed."

Jamie wasn't surprised at his blunt summarization, but it still irked her. She recovered quickly. "Yes, but we're close to another one. When Mitch gets back, he'll show you."

"There is no time," Ivankov looked at Allison. "The gas will be released in three days. With no alternative, the Noah Objective appears to be the most effective way to end this."

"Davies is lying to you," Jamie blurted suddenly.

He seemed unperturbed by her outburst. "So are you, Miss Campbell. You are not being honest about Doctor Morgan's whereabouts." He lowered his chin and stared into her eyes. "What don't you want me to know?"

"I have nothing to hide," Jamie countered firmly. It wasn't entirely true, but she'd already committed to the bluff. Backing down now would cost them everything.

"We'll see about that." Ivankov's gaze never wavered from Jamie's. "I need to speak with Miss Campbell alone."

"I don't think so, Sputnik." Dariela's immediate response was encouraging, if expected. Jamie was still lukewarm about the woman rejoining the team, but no one could say she wasn't fiercely protective of those on her team.

Jamie's instincts were telling her to refuse - being in a room alone with two strangers was low on her to-do list. But Ivankov had keyed onto Jamie for some reason, and Allison had already stated in no uncertain terms how much hinged on Russian support. She would do her part to make sure they got it.

"I got this," she told the others.

"Okay," Allison agreed, then turned to Dariela. "Let's go see if we can help the others find their target."

Jamie led their two guests to the meeting room and shut off the television. There was no need to give them hints as to what their target really was. Ivankov sat down and gestured for Jamie to sit just opposite him. The other man posted up nearby, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

"What's his job?" Jamie asked.

"His job is to watch," Ivankov said simply. "Now place your arms on the table."

The order surprised her. "Seriously?"

"Your pulse doesn't lie, even if you do." It was an old school lie detector, she realized. Ivankov just wanted the truth, and Jamie knew she wouldn't be able to hedge around it this time. Reluctantly she placed her elbows on the table and held her hands out. Ivankov wrapped his cool fingers around her wrist and pressed them into her pulse point. She could feel her heart racing already at the foreign touch and tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down.

"You said you were close to a cure," he began. "How do you know that?"

Jamie tried to recall as much about the science that Mitch had been spouting for the last few weeks. "We found a way to take specific animals that have a - bear with me - a triple-helix DNA strand and use their genomic fossils to synthesize a cure."

Ivankov turned his head slightly and muttered something in his mother tongue. His guard replied in kind, and Jamie wished she'd taken Russian in college instead of French. When he looked back at Jamie, his face gave away nothing. "And how many of these 'triple helix' animals do you need to make a cure?"

"Seven. We have six, but the last one is proving...hard to get." She couldn't possibly tell him what it was - a saber-toothed cat that, by all historical accounts, had been extinct for almost ten and half millennia. Ivankov and his guard spoke again, and this time Jamie couldn't handle not knowing. "I don't know what you're saying," she said, "but we are close to finding a cure. If you let the Noah Objective go forward, the gas will kill millions of people. And Davies knows it; that's what he's hiding." She finished her rant with a fierce nod, and she thought she saw a flicker of surprise on Ivankov's face.

"How do you know this?"

"We've accessed his files," Jamie told him.

"This team of yours," he changed subjects, probably to throw her off balance. "Why won't you let me know where they really are?"

"They're hunting for an animal we need," she insisted.

"And what animal is that?"

There it was. The question she didn't want to answer. She could lie, of course, but what good would that do? At best, Ivankov believed her and stuck around to meet Doctor Morgan, in which case he would catch her out in the lie. Worst case, he found out the mutation could jump to humans and he threw his weight behind the Noah Objective, which was already set for launch in three days. Their best bet was convincing the Russians that those like Jackson, people with the ghost gene, would be killed as collateral damage.

"A man," Jamie said finally. "A member of our team."

Ivankov took a deep breath and turned back to his companion. They began conversing in Russian, leaving Jamie to guess what they were talking about. Neither of them seemed overly worried or fearful, just concerned.

"Excuse us, please." The minister stood and followed his guard out the door. Jamie watched them go, sending a prayer heavenward that she hadn't just doomed humanity.

"What happened?" Allison asked immediately when she stepped inside. Jamie rubbed her wrists absently and shrugged.

"I told him the truth," she said.

Allison lowered her voice and angled her head toward Jamie. "That is _not_ what I told you to do. You have just jeopardized everything we've done here -"

"Listen," Jamie lifted her chin in challenge, "either we tell him the truth about the human casualties and possibly turn them away from the Noah Objective, or we don't and they find out, pushing them firmly into Davies' camp. Which do you think gives us the best chance of success?"

"That wasn't your call," Allison returned.

"Well, it doesn't much matter anymore, does it? It's done."

"I hope, for everyone's sake, those reporter instincts are working properly." Allison turned and stalked away without a backwards glance. With nothing else to do, Jamie decided to check in on the boys.

Mitch picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey," Jamie replied. "How are things on your end?"

"We're at the hospital, but Jackson isn't. We're still looking for why he was here in the first place. You?"

"We have an unexpected guest," Jamie glanced back to where Ivankov had disappeared.

"Max is back?"

"No," Jamie laughed at the horror in his tone. "Actually, it's the Russian Minister of Defense."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. He wanted to meet you, and since the mountain wouldn't come to Mohammed…"

She heard Mitch sigh heavily on the other end. "What does he want?"

"The truth," Jamie said. "He wanted to know about the cure. I told him as much as I could remember, but he still wants to speak with you."

"Well, we need to find Jackson first. And, judging from the mayhem he left here, it's not going to be easy."

"Alright, well be careful. I'll call you when I know more."

"Me, too. Bye." Mitch hung up abruptly, and Jamie hoped he'd found something that would help them find Jackson. She slipped her phone back in her pocket as Ivankov came back with his guard in tow.

The Russian minister stopped just inside the door with his hands clasped behind his back. "It is a scary thing to realize the mutation has jumped to humans. All the more reason to find this cure."

Jamie stood with a hopeful smile. "Does this mean you're withdrawing your support from the Noah Objective?"

"Yes," he nodded. "We corroborated your story."

Hope melted into relief, and Jamie's smile broadened. "That's great news."

"Hold the celebration," Ivankov held up a hand and took a few steps toward her. "I must convince the Cabinet of Ministers. They're meeting in Washington in two days." His steps carried him past her, but he turned back toward her as he continued to speak. "They need to be told that the TX 14 gas will cause human casualties."

"Well, can you convince them?"

"We will stop the Noah Objective, with your help." He sounded so sure, so confident, that Jamie believed him. She'd done it.

"Wait," Jamie shook her head as something he said finally clicked. "You said that you corroborated my story. Who did you corroborate it with?"

Ivankov looked almost pleased with himself as he answered. "Everything you said lined up with a Noah Objective scientist we spoke with two days ago. Triple Helix. Genomic fossils -"

"A scientist?"

"Yes."

"What scientist?" She had an idea, but she had to be sure.

"His name is Doctor Robert Oz."

Bingo. If they could talk to Jackson's father, maybe he could tell them how to help Jackson. And maybe Jamie could learn more about why he'd developed the gas in the first place. "I need to talk to him," Jamie insisted. "Do you know where he is?"

"No," Ivankov shook his head briefly. "We spoke on a secure line."

"Was it traceable?"

"By definition, the secure lines are not traceable." Jamie deflated. "But in Russia," Ivankov continued proudly, "we trace everything."

"Doctor Oz can help us. His son is the member of our team that's missing. Can you find out where he is?"

"I believe we can help you," Ivankov said. "If you agree to come to Washington and have Doctor Morgan speak with the Cabinet of Ministers."

"Deal, done," Jamie agreed immediately. "Thank you."

Ivankov just inclined his head and began to walk away. "It will take some time and space to set up," he said over his shoulder.

Jamie just nodded. "I'll make sure our vehicle bay is cleared out for you."

It took less than twenty minutes for the entire apparatus to go up, and in that time Jamie received an update from Mitch. They were on Jackson's trail, likely in search of a woman named Vera Salvon. Jamie filed the name away in her mind and implored them to be careful.

"Was that Mitch?" Allison asked as she hung up.

"Yeah."

"We're almost ready."

Jamie fell into step beside her as they descended the small staircase onto the lower floor of the vehicle bay. The second SUV had been backed out onto the tarmac, leaving space for the large black tent that now took up most of the area.

"What is this thing again?"

"A SCIF Room, "Allison led her to the opening at the side. "A Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility."

Ivankov came to meet them, and Jamie glanced up at the structure incredulously. "You bring this stuff with you when you travel?"

"Yes," Ivankov smiled. "For security. Calls can't be traced, computers can't be hacked."

"From a surveillance standpoint, it's impenetrable." Allison actually sounded a little impressed.

Ivankov just smiled smugly. "Unless, of course, you are inside." He gestured for the women to precede him through the flap. Inside was a vast array of computer terminals and communications equipment. Jamie was shocked that it had all been assembled so quickly.

Ivankov's guard - who Jamie was finally introduced to as Sergio - was sitting in front of a terminal. He gestured to the seat next to him and she sat, leaving Ivankov and Allison to stand behind them as Sergio tapped a series of numbers. A muted trill filled the small space as the connection began ringing.

The program on the screen began working, triangulating points on the map and pinpointing the location of the call. Sergio gestured at the receiver. "Pick up the phone."

Jamie lifted it from the cradle and put it to her ear. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as it rang again, and again.

"Hello?"

Oh, my God. "Doctor Robert Oz?' He didn't answer and Jamie rushed on. "If this is Doctor Robert Oz, please don't hang up. I'm a friend of your son." She spoke in short, clipped sentences like Dariela, relaying the most important information as quickly as possible in an effort to keep him on the line. "Jackson is in trouble. I think he might be trying to find you." Still Oz said nothing, and Jamie feared he'd already hung up. But the program was still tracking, still narrowing down Robert Oz's location. "Please, he really needs your help," she told him. "Hello?"

 _Click_.

Jamie set the receiver down and prayed it had been enough. "Did you get it?"

All four of them watched the screen closely, and when it beeped Sergio nodded. "Yes. An address just outside Washington D.C."

"Guys?" Dariela's voice called from outside the tent. "Trotter says there's a car coming."

Jamie glanced back at Allison, but she seemed just as confused. "I'll go check it out," she told the others and stood to stretch out her hand toward their new friends. "Thank you, Minister Ivankov."

"No, thank you, Miss Campbell. I look forward to seeing you in Washington." He grasped her smaller hand between his in a warm shake. "Do svidaniya."

Jamie met Dariela outside the tent flap and accepted the small handgun she was holding out. Jamie still wasn't the biggest fan of firearms; she couldn't help but picture Ben Schaffer's face as she pulled the trigger in a stairwell a year and a lifetime ago. But she recognized the need for one in times like these, and forced herself to get over the initial contempt at the feel of it in her hand.

The car had stopped several yards from the plane, but no driver had emerged yet. Dariela posted up at the edge of the bay and used the side of the plane as cover as Jamie walked closer. She kept her weapon along her far leg and took measured steps toward the car.

As she got closer she could finally make out the driver, and she had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing it properly. At the same moment Jamie turned to wave Dariela off, the elderly woman stepped out of the car with her hands up.

"Please, don't shoot. I...I was sent by Jackson Oz. He told me to come speak with his friends here."

Jamie relaxed and tucked the handgun into the waistband of her jeans. "Jackson sent you?"

"Yes," the woman glanced over Jamie's shoulder at Dariela, who finally lowered her rifle. "My name is Vera Salvon."

Jamie recognized it immediately; this was the woman Mitch was looking for. "Come on board." Dariela had disappeared, probably to tell the others to stay inside the SCIF Room until Vera could be escorted further into the plane. Jamie guessed Vera had no idea what a SCIF Room was, and as they walked up the stairs to the upper level of the vehicle bay she barely gave the large tent a second glance.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Jamie offered as she led Vera to the day room.

"Oh, no thank you, dear." She took a moment to settle into a plush chair, and when she looked up at Jamie she was smiling. "Is Doctor Morgan here? Jackson was adamant I speak with Doctor Morgan."

"Actually," Jamie lowered herself down into the chair opposite, "he's out looking for you."

"Really?" Vera seemed surprised. "Well, that is a coincidence. Or perhaps not," Vera shrugged. "Jackson was in a bad way when he found me, but he said you were working on a solution to the animal problem."

"Yes," Jamie leaned forward, elbows on knees, as she spoke. "And we need Jackson to finish it. Do you know where he is?"

"No," Vera shook her head apologetically, "but he said that I could help."

"How?"

"I don't know. Perhaps Doctor Morgan will."

"They just pulled up," Dariela announced from the door. "Allison says we should take her to the lab."

"Alright," Jamie stood and offered to help, but Vera waved her off and rose to her feet. Jamie kept pace with the older woman as Dariela led the way toward the lab. They had just made it to the exam table when Abe and Mitch came in.

"What's going on?"

Jamie turned toward the sound of his voice almost instinctively. "Guys, there's someone here you should meet. This," she turned back to their guest, "is Vera Salvon."

"I'm glad you're all here," Vera spoke in a careful, lilted tone. "I have a message from Jackson Oz. He said for me to tell you that I have a ghost gene, the same as him, and that I can be used in his place. Does that make sense?"

"It does," Mitch nodded. "Have you been bitten or scratched by an animal, Mrs. Salvon?"

"My parakeet bit me," she indicated her right arm. "A few weeks ago. Jackson seemed to know somehow. Anybody else would have thought your friend was crazy, but I knew something wasn't right. After the parakeet bit me, strange things began to happen."

Mitch moved closer. "Mind if I take a look at your arm, Mrs. Salvon?"

She rolled up her sleeve, exposing a nasty red wound. The veins that criss-crossed up and down her arm were almost a bluish-black, and around the bite the skin had started to discolor.

Mitch looked at it clinically. "So you've been experiencing black tears? Mucus?"

"Yes," Vera nodded. "Jackson explained to me that it was happening to him, too. He said that we both had this thing, this ghost gene. It's what gave us the animal mutation." Jamie felt a bit of relief at her words; if Jackson was coherent enough to relay all of that information, then maybe they could still find him. On the other hand, the more lucid he was, the greater his chances were of finding a way back to Washington before they could get to him. Vera rolled her sleeve back down and clasped her hands in front of her. "He said there was a way to cure. Not just me, but the whole world."

"He wants you to replace him," Mitch explained. "To be an incubator."

"Is that possible?" Jamie asked.

"In theory," Mitch answered. "Yeah, I don't - I don't know. I got to run some tests." He moved deeper into the lab to begin the preparation.

Abe sighed heavily. "This means he's not planning on coming back."

Vera turned as the large man walked by her, clearly distraught. "I'm sorry," she told him sincerely.

Abe's face softened as he smiled at the woman. "No, thanks to you we finally know what Jackson's been up to." Then he turned to Jamie. "And thanks to you, we know where to find him."

Allison turned and started for the cockpit. "I'll get us wheels up for D.C.," she said. "Then I suggest we all get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

Jamie decided to hang around in the lab to keep Mitch company. He tried (and failed) to get her to go grab a nap, but she insisted on staying.

"Besides," she added with a teasing smile, "Vera seems smitten. I'm not sure I should leave the two of you alone."

Mitch rolled his eyes and finished the last of his initial tests. "Okay," he said. "I think this'll work." He turned back toward Vera, who was smiling a little too innocently. Jamie wondered if the woman had heard her comment.

"I need some blood, Mrs. Salvon."

"Vera, please." She rolled up her sleeve. "This will tell us if you can use me to...do whatever you call it?"

"Incubate the cure, yes," Mitch confirmed. "But first I need to make sure your body can handle it without rejecting the genomic fossils I need to introduce into your DNA. Shouldn't take long." Jamie watched from the peripheral as Mitch took two vials of blood from Vera.

When he walked away, Vera held down the compress he'd left and turned to Jamie. "He's a charmer."

Jamie laughed at the woman's dry tone and nodded. "He has his moments." She glanced up at the parakeet Mitch had brought back from Vera's home. "Mrs. Salvon? Why did you keep your parakeet after the animals changed?"

"He belonged to my late husband," Vera smiled fondly in remembrance. "That bird hated everyone. When Gunter passed, I couldn't bring myself to put it into quarantine."

"Well I guess we should all be glad you kept him. And thank you for doing this," she added. "Not everyone would be so calm." Even Jamie, who had been neck deep in this entire mess almost from day one, was grateful Jackson had been the one with the ghost gene and not her.

Vera looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "I watched my husband die," she said firmly, "and I've been through two bouts of cancer. I'm not about to let a little nip from a bird get the best of me."

Jamie chuckled at her tenacity. "Well you're braver than most people."

"So tell me," Vera leaned in conspiratorially, "what's a young woman like you getting messed up in all this? The world is ending," she smiled despite the gravity of her statement. "You should be at home with loved ones."

Jamie thought about her words for a moment. Her aunt, uncle and cousins were no doubt still holed up in their home in eastern Louisiana, fending off the coming apocalypse and praying for her. But when Jamie thought about home, there was only one person who filled her thoughts. She glanced up at Mitch, hunched over his workstation and deep in concentration.

Vera didn't miss the small smile that graced her face. "Ah, perhaps your loved ones are here with you," she cooed.

"My family lives in Louisiana," Jamie said quietly, "but yeah, Mitch and I...we found each other among all of this madness."

"Gunter and I met by a crazy coincidence. He held the door for me in a downpour, and we sheltered in a cafe until the rain stopped. He bought me a coffee, and by the time the storm had passed I'd agreed to meet him for our first date. I was a lot like you in those days - guarded, careful. But Gunter had a way about him that made everyone like him instantly. So I made an exception, and I never once regretted it." Vera reached out and laid an aged hand on Jamie's arm. "It's amazing to think that a minute earlier or later, and we might never have met. I might have taken shelter in the bookshop next door, or he could have held the door for someone else."

It was a cute story, like the ones Jamie would often watch on Lifetime whenever she felt like indulging her inner romantic. She could picture it clearly in her head, a younger Vera and a strapping man with a disarming smile sharing a coffee while the storm raged outside.

"I had all but given up on romance," Jamie admitted quietly. "I mean, you get let down enough times a girl has to learn. So I built a wall and tried to keep everyone at arm's length. It was safer that way." Jamie turned her head to glance at Mitch's back. "Then one day, two lions got loose in L.A. and my life changed forever."

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Vera at up straighter and released her arm. "If there really is a thing like fate. Destiny." Jamie wasn't sure what she believed anymore, so she stayed quiet. "I suppose I'd prefer to be in danger with those I love than safe...and alone."

Jamie agreed, but she didn't get a chance to say so. Mitch came back over with a hopeful expression. "Test looks good," he reported as he replaced her bandage with a clean one. "Soon as we find that saber-tooth, Vera here should make the perfect host." He started to walk away, but Vera reached out and grabbed his elbow.

"I like this one," she said to Jamie with a sly smile. "When this is all over, you and him can work on that wall."

Mitch was completely lost. "What is she talking about?"

"Ignore her," Jamie insisted. Luckily Mitch had more important things to worry about, but Jamie guessed she'd hear about it later. Vera just smiled knowingly as Mitch walked away to finish and clean up. "I suppose I should set you up in a room. Are you tired?"

"A bit," Vera admitted. "Do you have the room?"

Jamie thought about the small storage space near the back of the plane that had been converted for Logan. It was no place for the savior of humanity to rest, and Jamie didn't really feel like stepping foot near it. That left one option.

"You can have my room," Jamie said. "Come on, I'll take you upstairs." Vera tucked her left arm into the crook of Jamie's elbow and let the younger woman lead her upstairs.

Jamie played tour guide as they walked past the lounge, the kitchen, and the bar. Once they made it to the living quarters, Vera stopped. "Where will you sleep, dear?" She asked the question like she already knew the answer and Jamie just chuckled.

"Alright, do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm fine," she patted Jamie's arm affectionately. "You should get some rest, dear. You look tired. Go grab that scientist of yours and take a nice long nap."

"That sounds wonderful," Jamie agreed. She grabbed a few things from the drawers and the bathroom, let Vera know where the clean towels were located, and left her to rest. She intended to go back to the lab and do exactly what Vera had suggested, but as she stepped back out into the hallway Mitch was waiting for her just in front of his own room.

He lifted his chin slightly. "Got a new roommate?"

"Actually," she sidled over to him with a saccharine smile, "I was hoping I could bunk with you in the interim."

"So long as all you want to do is sleep." Mitch ran a hand down his face, and when he looked back at her he'd aged ten years due to exhaustion. "I'm not sure I'm good for much else right now."

"We've been up a while," she agreed. "And the last time we were in bed, we weren't exactly resting."

Mitch smiled at the memory her words evoked. He slid his door back and gestured for her to precede him. As she walked by him, however, he reached out and penned her in between his arms. She accepted the kiss he gave, slow and sleepy but no less powerful than every other kiss they'd shared. She was slumped against the doorframe, her fingers clutching the fabric of his black t-shirt as the day's worth of growth on his cheeks scratched her soft skin.

"Hmmm," he hummed against her lips as he pulled back. "Come on." He grabbed her hand and tugged her to the bed after sliding the door closed behind her. He peeled back the covers as she shucked her jeans and sweater, leaving her in a camisole and panties. Mitch's jeans and shirt joined hers on the floor, and soon they were cocooned within the combined warmth of their body heat and the thick comforter.

"What did Vera mean?" His voice was rough with fatigue, but she could practically hear his brain still winding down from the day's work. He needed an answer to the question or he'd never sleep.

Jamie was tucked against his side with her head pillowed on his shoulder. Her fingers danced lightly over his chest in random patterns as she answered. "She was telling me about her husband, about how they met by happenstance one rainy afternoon."

"That look she gave me...reminds me of when my mother cornered me at Christmas years ago and asked when I was going to give her grandchildren to dote on."

Jamie laughed at the image, then sobered immediately. "Oh my, God!" She pushed up and scrambled over him, her limbs colliding with his in her haste. "I completely forgot! I'm sorry." She picked her jeans out of the pile while apologizing over and over again. Mitch, for his part, looked completely lost.

"Jamie, what -?"

"I'll be right back." She tugged her sweater on as she yanked the door open, ignoring the startled cry of surprise from Dariela in the hall. She raced toward the balcony, down the stairs, and through the lab to the meeting room. Her laptop still sat inconspicuously on the table, and Jamie scooped it up, unplugged it, and dashed back to Mitch's room.

He was still sitting up in bed, half-asleep and half-confused, as she came barrelling back in. "With everything that happened with Jackson and the Russians and then Vera...it completely slipped my mind." She bent one leg under her and sat on the bed as he moved his legs to accommodate her. "I found your mom." She could practically feel his stare on her as she woke up her computer from hibernation.

"You what?"

"She's in Safe Zone Four in California," Jamie went on. "I was watching the news this morning - afternoon...whatever - looking for any news about Jackson, and I fell down a rabbit hole. Needless to say, it was long and convoluted and more than a little bit messed up, but it got me to thinking about your mom and how she was. _Where_ she was. So I tracked her down, called the guy in charge, maybe lied a little, and finally got a hold of her." She knew she was rambling, but the combination of guilt at having forgotten all about it and worry she'd overstepped her bounds was causing a flurry of emotion in her gut that she didn't know what to do with. So she rambled.

"Let me get this straight." Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose - his usual tell whenever something was overwhelming his awesome brainpower and he was trying to sort it out. "You spoke to my mom?"

"I did," Jamie pulled up the file of her recording. "And I even managed to get her to record a message for you, since you couldn't talk to her yourself. Her next phone time isn't for four days." She didn't have to elaborate; in four days, they'd have either solved the animal problem - in which case the safe zones would be obsolete - or the TX 14 gas will have killed every animal on the planet, along with 2.2 million humans.

Jamie loaded the file and turned the laptop around to transfer it into his lap. She squeezed his arm once, then retreated into the bathroom as he pressed play. She could hear the steady alto of Dianne's voice floating from the small speakers even through the door, and she tried to imagine Mitch's face as he watched what could very well be his mother's last words to her son.

When she was finished in the bathroom she stayed by the door, waiting until she heard Dianne say her name. Still she waited a few more seconds before opening the door. When she stepped back out Mitch was already on his feet. He closed the distance to her in two long strides and swept her into a tight hug. She felt something warm and damp on her neck and she realized he was crying.

She heard him breath a thank you into her shoulder, his voice still shaky, and she held him a moment longer until he composed himself. He relaxed his hold on her but didn't step away, moving instead to kiss her deeply. She responded eagerly, her lips laving away the last of his tears. She could feel how tired he was, his mouth sluggish and slow to respond to her ministrations.

"Bed time," she kissed him once more and pushed him gently toward the bed. She moved her laptop to the dresser as Mitch climbed back in bed, and this time when she joined him he turned to his side and tugged her almost flush against him. She tucked her head under his, listening to his steady heartbeat as their breaths synced.

Jamie knew he was almost asleep, but she couldn't help the thread of curiosity that had begun to unravel in her mind. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she reached the end of it, so she grabbed a hold and tugged.

"Mitch?"

"Hmm?"

"Your mom...she said something about a turtle town? Is that like an inside joke or...?"

Mitch hummed something that could have been amusement and she felt him shift around her. "Turtletown, Tennessee," he said slowly. "It's so small, there's no official population count on the census. One of her college friends had a cabin retreat up in the mountains out there." There was more he wasn't saying, but Jamie didn't want to pry into what was obviously a very important, private memory. So she nodded and closed her eyes, her question answered.

"After the divorce was finalized, Mom moved us out to Alabama." Jamie's eyes popped open as Mitch's voice filled the silence. She listened intently, soaking in every minute detail of his words. She knew very little of his life before her, and the more he shared the more she craved. "She...she didn't take it well. It took us a while to get back to something resembling normal, and her friend suggested we take a few weeks before the school year started to rest and recharge at her parents' cabin. So we did." Jamie felt him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing against her forehead. "It was beautiful. Turtletown's not exactly a tourist spot, so no one bothered us. It was just me and Mom in the mountains for two weeks. It became sort of a yearly tradition, and we did it every year until I graduated and went off to college. There's a lot about my adolescence I'd like to forget, but those weeks secluded in the forest, just me and her...it's the closest thing to heaven I've ever experienced."

Jamie had no idea he could so poetic. Oh, he had a way with words, so long as they were long, scientific amalgamations that made sense only to him. But listening to him describe his mountain getaway, hearing the nostalgic yearning in his voice, made her long to see it.

"Sounds amazing," she whispered into his skin.

"It is," he hugged her tighter, sliding his leg between hers carefully in an effort to tug her closer. "One day, I'd love to take you there."

"I'd like that," she told him honestly. It meant a lot to her, his willingness to bring her into this haven he and his mom had found. It made her feel like a part of a family - _his_ family - and she found that thought to be a pleasant one. She wanted to say more, but as she opened her mouth the only thing that emerged was a wide yawn.

Mitch chuckled softly. "Get some rest," he ran a hand down her arm and let it settle on her hip. "I don't imagine we'll be doing much of that in the next few days." Jamie listened to his breathing deepen and slow, waiting only a few more minutes before following him under.


	24. Contingency - Perchance to Dream

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 24: Contingency - Perchance to Dream

 _Tragedy strikes at the Russian Embassy, forcing the team to reassess everything as the Noah Objective grows perilously closer._

* * *

"We'll be landing in D.C. in an hour."

Trotter's announcement woke Mitch immediately. He groaned and tried to roll over, but the warm body next to him prevented him from face planting into the pillow. Jamie laughed at his antics and pushed at his shoulder.

"Come on, sleepyhead." The tone of voice told him she'd been up for a while, though she hadn't moved from the warm nest of blankets they'd created during their nap.

Mitch glanced sidelong at the clock on the nightstand, noting with surprise that they'd slept for almost seven hours. "Were you watching me sleep?" he grumbled, rolling to his back to run a hand down his face.

"Maybe," she returned cheekily. "Come on, I need a shower."

"So go take a shower," he gestured vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.

Jamie just laughed again. "I would," she poked his side gently, "except I'm sort of stuck." She wiggled her legs to demonstrate, and Mitch realized they were tangled with his inside the sheet.

"Oh." It took a few seconds of careful rearranging, but finally she was free. "Save some hot water for me," he told her as she climbed over him.

"You could join me," she suggested. "I seem to remember something from last summer about revisiting the topic sometime?"

Mitch's brain was still in startup mode, so it took a moment to dig the memory out. They had just made Clearwater after a long car ride from Boston, and both Jamie and Mitch had been too tired to do anything more than take separate showers and collapse into bed for a nap. Of course, it had also been early on in their relationship and taking that step had been a long way off in either of their minds.

"You're right," he threw the covers back and swiveled to place his feet on the floor. "And in light of the approaching apocalypse, we should probably conserve as much water as possible."

She was grinning as she entered the bathroom, and Mitch was two steps behind her. She turned the inside lock on Dariela's side, not wanting his suitemate to interrupt them. Mitch didn't think she'd even stayed in her own bed last night, but he didn't really care enough to point it out. He turned the shower on, dialing the heat up just a little higher than he normally had it, before stripping off his underwear.

Jamie stepped under the spray just after him, and her nimble fingers danced over his skin as he turned and swept her into a kiss. She smiled against his mouth as they slipped a bit on the wet tile, but he braced a hand against the wall behind her as he continued to trail kisses down her jaw toward her neck. A red mark just above her collarbone made him smile, and he spent a few extra seconds here as she squirmed beneath him.

"You think it's funny?" she asked breathless, her voice almost inaudible over the sound of the shower.

"A little," he admitted. "I haven't given anybody a hickey since college."

"Well, since it's so amusing, how about I give you one?" She'd meant it as a threat, but Mitch just grinned wider.

"Go ahead." He craned his neck to the side, giving her easy access to the expanse of skin. Her arms came up over his shoulders, and as she raised up on her toes her body pressed flush against his. He turned his head to press a kiss to her shoulder and caught sight of another mark.

"What's that?" She dropped her arm quickly, angling slightly to keep it away from his sight. "Jamie?" he gripped her hips gently and tugged, asking her silently to let him see.

She sighed and turned to show him the trio of finger-sized bruises that ringed her bicep. He knew what they were immediately, and he raised her arm above her head to inspect further. There were matching bruises on the inside where he could only imagine his thumb had dug into her.

"Mitch?" she lowered her arm enough to lay her hand on his cheek. "Hey, look at me." He dragged his eyes to hers, imploring her to accept his silent apology. But she just shook her head softly and smiled. "It's okay. I'm okay. They don't even hurt." She raised up to kiss him, full and firm.

He leaned away. "I shouldn't have grabbed you that hard," he told her. "I didn't mean to...are you sure they don't hurt?" He'd been in a bad way but he didn't remember gripping her hard enough to leave bruises.

Jamie laughed. "One of these days, you and I are going to have a longer conversation about what is and isn't okay in bed. This," she glanced at her arm, "is absolutely okay. I know it wasn't done in anger; it was done in a moment of passion. Of love. Don't think you've done anything wrong, because I don't. Your passion - both in and out of the bedroom - is just one of the things I love about you."

She kissed him again, and this time he responded a little more eagerly. He still felt bad for leaving marks on her skin like that, but her words had gone a long way to ease the guilt he was feeling. Then she moved her lips from his mouth to his neck and his guilt was eclipsed by a rush of that passion she was so fond of.

"What do you think?"

Mitch examined the mark in the mirror as he finished shaving. Jamie sat on the vanity next to him, smiling like the proverbial canary-eating cat as she indicated the reddening mark just above the junction of his neck and shoulder.

"I think I'm gonna have to wear a collared shirt today," he smiled at her in the mirror as he zipped the last of the shaving cream from his face with the razor. He washed the remnants off and ran his hands over his chin and cheeks to make sure he'd gotten it all. Jamie had insisted on watching him, and though he'd thought the request odd he hadn't had the heart to deny her. This quiet moment of domesticity was almost surreal, and only the quiet hum of jet engines reminded him of their rather peculiar place of residence.

"Here," she handed him a small bottle of aftershave from his toiletry bag. "I'm gonna go see if Vera's up and grab some clean clothes." She leaned in to kiss his clean-shaven cheek, then hopped down. He watched her go and wondered if he would ever recall the exact moment he'd been lost to her. He'd loved her long before Africa, before leopards and life-threatening hospitals, before Brazil and bears in Paris. Somewhere between a casual lunch and flying across the country with her, he'd realized this was going to be something more than an infatuation.

A knock on his door startled him, and before he could open it he heard Allison's voice call out. "I need everyone in the lounge as soon as possible, please." She was speaking to the entire hall, and somewhere from the other side Mitch heard Dariela's answer.

"Copy that."

He added his own affirmation, waiting until he heard her footsteps receding before stepping out of his bathroom and getting dressed. He figured jeans and a short sleeve Oxford wouldn't look too out of the ordinary, and he was grateful for the spontaneous clothes shopping excursion they'd done during their layover in Portugal as he pulled a clean set from the closet.

Jamie's smile upon seeing his chosen attire was just a little too smug, and he stared at her pointedly until she stifled it behind her hand. Dariela glanced back and forth between them curiously, but Allison commanded their attention before she could say anything about it.

"Trotter says we're landing in fifteen minutes. It's just about four local time, and the Noah Objective launches in two and a half days." She spoke to the group, but her eyes never left Mitch. "The Russian Cabinet of Ministers is meeting tomorrow morning, so you have the rest of the day to find Jackson. I'm going to see Mrs. Salvon to the safe zone and make sure she is secured."

Jamie already had her tablet out. "We have an address for Robert Oz." She pulled up the location on Google Maps, complete with the little red flag over Oz's house. "This is the location we obtained from the trace. Jackson will likely have gone here to find his father."

"What if he doesn't come willingly?" Dariela asked.

"He will," Abe insisted. He sounded too sure, like he was trying to will it to be true, but Mitch said nothing. He was all for a more physical solution should Jackson prove difficult, and he was certain Dariela would have no problem administering it.

Mitch grabbed his jacket and slipped it on as the others stood. "Let's go."

They didn't find Jackson or his father. Just a dead soldier and a whole plethora of scribbled notes on whiteboards in Oz's office. Mitch and Jamie snapped pictures of everything as quickly as they could, just barely slipping out the back as Davies' men stormed the house. Dariela had stayed behind on on the plane, having lost a silent argument with Abe on the subject. Something was going on those two, but Mitch didn't have the mental resources to spare to worry about it.

As they sped back to the plane, Mitch called Dariela with the update. She promised to start looking for any unusual incidences around the Oz residence or Davies' building. By the time they made it back to the plane, she'd found one. "There are reports of shots fired at IADG HQ," she reported.

"Any casualties?" Mitch asked.

"Unclear," she shook her head. "Story's not being picked up by any news outlets. I had to piece things together from social media."

Mitch came around the table to stand behind her. "We're gonna need surveillance at the IADG and surrounding traffic cams."

Dariela was already typing. "Working on it."

On her other side, Jamie was tapping furiously on her tablet. "Says here shots were fired at 4:23 pm."

"Got it," Dariela brought up the video footage of the IADG building, including a shot of their front door security cam.

Mitch didn't know how she'd gotten access, and he didn't want to. He was just glad that it was in her skill set as he scanned for any sign of Jackson or his father. "Fast forward." She did, stopping it at the exact time Jamie had reported.

Dariela turned her head, but never took her eyes off the screen. "Is that?"

"Robert Oz," Abe was hovering just over Mitch's shoulder. They all looked at the image of the two Oz men standing just on the other side of the glass doors. The footage was grainy, but Mitch saw Jackson jerk away from something, then both men walked away quickly.

"Okay," he said, "go to traffic cams."

Dariela switched cameras fast enough to see Jackson and his father getting into a small red SUV.

"That's 12th Street," Jamie glanced from the screen to her tablet. Mitch looked up at the digital map she'd conjured and marveled at the well-oiled team she and Dariela made despite their differences. "There should be another camera at G."

The view switched, keeping tabs on the red vehicle. "They're heading north," Abe said. "Where is Robert taking him?"

Jamie was still hunting traffic cams. "We should be able to pick them up at New York Avenue." Dariela typed the necessary command, but the SUV didn't show. "Maybe they turned," Jamie frowned. "Try Massachusetts." Still, nothing. "13th and M?" Jamie tried again, but the vehicle had seemingly vanished.

"They're gone," Abe stepped away.

"So," Mitch crossed his arms and took a breath, "the great and powerful Oz. Crazy son of a bitch is still alive." He hadn't entirely believed Abe when he'd told him the news, but he couldn't deny the evidence in front of him.

"And now he has the one thing he has coveted most," Abe added hotly. "Jackson."

"I'll go back through the cameras," Dariela offered. "No one can just disappear into thin air. They have to be somewhere."

"That's going to take a while," Jamie set her tablet down to show the others her map. There were symbols at nearly every intersection, indicating a camera was present. "Even if you narrow your search to certain blocks, that's dozens of cameras to sift through."

"So bring me some coffee," Dariela shrugged. Abe cleared his throat meaningfully, and she backpedaled. "Decaf."

Mitch narrowed his eyes at the two of them, his mind already formulating the possibilities. The timing was right, and unless Abe's room had come equipped with some things Mitch's had not, it was very likely the two of them had not had any protection during their nighttime activities.

 _Oh, shit._

He glanced up at Jamie with a wide-eyed expression, and she returned it with a questioning one of her own. He nodded his head sideways, ever so subtly, and she followed him to the small niche under the stairs.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I think Dariela's pregnant."

"What?" Jamie exclaimed, then ducked her head as Mitch shushed her. "Why do you think that?" she continued in a quieter tone.

Mitch checked to see if Dariela or Abe had heard her outburst, but Dariela was focused on the computer screen and Abe was already gone. "Think about it," he said. He held up his fingers one by one as he listed the evidence. "She orders a decaf coffee, when both of us clearly know she usually drinks the real stuff. Abe has been a _lot_ more overbearing and protective where she's concerned, especially the last few days. And let's not forget about the horses, who bypassed a hundred or more unarmed, frightened people to focus on her. It makes sense that the mutation we're seeing in the animals would give them an imperative to kill any gestating humans to keep the population from growing."

Jamie grimaced at his scientific explanation, but he could see she was assimilating his points and accepting them. "Okay," she said slowly, "but if she is, why haven't they told us?"

"I don't know," Mitch shrugged, "and I don't care. But I do have a question for you. When's the last time you...I mean...when was your last…"

Jamie smiled at his obvious discomfort about the topic. "Weren't you a doctor?" she teased.

"Not an OB," he countered grumpily.

"To answer your question," she crossed her arms over her body and leaned back against the table. "I don't remember. My body is just now getting back to normal after...well, after everything. I was in and out of consciousness for six months, remember? I don't remember much of anything. And my trek through the wonderful frostbitten backwoods of Canada certainly didn't help much in terms of regulation."

Mitch nodded thoughtfully, calculating odds and assessing the risks. "But you're not…"

"Pregnant?" Jamie laughed. "No, I don't think so." He could see the tiniest bit of fear hidden behind her smile. "Do you want to run a test to be sure?"

He jumped on her offer immediately. "Yes, please."

She sat silently in the chair as he drew blood, but as he began working through the lab procedure she began chatting over his shoulder. "Does it scare you that much?"

"What?"

"The thought of being a dad again?"

He couldn't read her own feelings on the subject based on her tone, so he just shrugged and tried to keep his own neutral. "Wasn't terribly good at it the first time around."

He felt her hand light on his back and rub a small circle before dropping away. "Things are different," she said simply. "You're different. Besides," she added, turning so she could rest her back against the table and look at his face, "you made a decision that you thought was best for Clem, even though it hurt you to do it. That sounds like a good dad to me."

He glanced at her briefly, then returned his eyes to the machinery. "Are we actually having this conversation right now?"

"Apparently."

"You don't seem terribly freaked out about it."

"Oh, don't let this cool exterior fool you," she let out a little nervous chuckle. "I'm hoping this test of yours is negative and I don't have to add that particular craziness to the list of things I'm currently dealing with."

Mitch pulled the tube from the centrifuge and finished the last steps of the procedure while Jamie watched like a hawk. He waited a few agonizing minutes, then analyzed the results.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

"Negative," he relaxed, expecting her to do the same. She didn't. "You alright?"

"Huh? Yeah." She shook her head. "Yeah, that's a relief."

He packed away his equipment automatically and glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye. She was staring off into the distance, out into the lab proper, and he realized she was watching Dariela. "Jamie?"

She blinked and cut her eyes to his. "Yeah?"

"You seem, I don't know...disappointed?"

"No," she shook her head quickly. "No, no, no, just...thinking."

Mitch wasn't entirely sure where the question had come from, but once it entered his head it bounced around until it found the outlet to his tongue. "Do you want children?"

Judging from her bewildered expression, it had caught her off-guard. "What? No!"

"Not right now," he clarified quietly. "I mean, someday. When all of this is," he gestured toward the plane around them, "is over."

She paused for a moment, as if weighing her answer, then shrugged. "Maybe. One day. What about you?"

Mitch still wasn't sure, and he told her so. "Audra's pregnancy was a complete surprise. I spent most of my early twenties ducking 'the question' and focusing on my career just so I wouldn't have to think about it. Having children was never on my radar. Too many bad genes to pass on." He couldn't help the stab of self-loathing that popped up whenever he thought about this particular topic. He could sense Jamie wanted to say something - probably a protest to his words - but he went on before she could interrupt. "But then Clem came along and she was...perfect. And, just for a moment, I forgot about all of those reasons I'd come up with."

"Why, Doctor Morgan," Jamie crooned teasingly, "I never knew you could be so sentimental."

He rolled his eyes and turned to mirror her pose, leaning back against the work table. "I'm just saying, it would take someone very special to sway me in favor of bringing more Morgans into the world."

"Oh yeah?" she turned toward him slightly with a coy smile on her face. "Know anyone who might fit the bill?"

"Maybe," he played along but couldn't help the grin that split his face. _When had he become such a sap_? Her teasing smirk erupted into a self-satisfied smile, and Mitch leaned down to kiss it off her face.

"Guys?" Dariela interrupted just before their lips met and Mitch bit back a groan as they turned toward her. "Allison's calling on the secure line."

"I'll get it," Mitch offered. "I am the leader, after all."

Jamie just pushed his shoulder and went to help Dariela as he made his way to the meeting room just off the lab. He hit the button that connected the line, and Allison's face filled the screen.

"Hey," she greeted. "I've got Mrs. Salvon under a protection detail here. I have some business I need to take care of in the city, but the Russian Cabinet of Ministers is meeting tomorrow morning. I'll be back by to get you and Jamie around eight."

"Jamie's coming?" It was a pleasant surprise; Allison was far from being Jamie's biggest fan.

"Yes." The word looked sour on her tongue as she frowned. "Much as I hate to admit it, she's got a way with people. Minister Ivankov seems keen on her; he asked for her to accompany you."

"I'll let her know." It would do Jamie good to know just how much she'd contributed. He knew the last few weeks had been a rollercoaster for her as she tried to figure out where she fit in this new team dynamic. "Anything else?"

"No," Allison shook her head. "There's a refueling truck that should be by this evening. Any luck with finding Jackson?"

"Dariela and Jamie are scouring the traffic cams," he reported. "So far, all we know is he and his father disappeared from in front of the IADG building around 4:30 this afternoon."

"If Robert Oz has Jackson, we might never see either of them again."

"Doesn't mean we're not gonna look," Mitch returned. "See you tomorrow morning." He cut the connection as Allison opened her mouth to speak. Whatever she was going to say, he didn't want to hear it.

"Everything okay?" Jamie asked as he walked back out into the lab.

"Yeah," he made his way over to the desk. Someone had commandeered the other two computer screens and created a large array on the surface so they could check multiple cameras at once. "Any progress?"

"Still no Jackson," Dariela didn't take her eyes off the screen. "They could have switched cars out of view of the cameras and we'd never know."

"We still need to look," Abe spoke from behind them. "It is just after seven o'clock," he continued. "I can continue searching the cameras while you three get something to eat and rest."

Mitch went to check his watch, then realized he didn't have it on. It wouldn't matter anyway - he couldn't remember which time zone it was synced with.

"I am hungry," Jamie said. "Come on, professor. Let's scrounge up dinner for everybody." She tugged his sleeve and he hesitated only a moment before following her to the kitchen.

Their stores were woefully lacking, so a dinner break turned into a shopping trip. Mitch still had some money in his account, but he couldn't take the chance that Davies wasn't monitoring it or his credit card. And with Jamie having been declared dead for the last eight months, it was unlikely her finances were available to pay for groceries. Trotter had come up with the solution, handing Mitch a card in his wife's name.

"It's for emergencies," he told them with a smile. "And I'm pretty sure this counts."

"We'll pay you back," Jamie promised. "Thank you."

"Just make sure you grab Devil Squares," he requested. "If they have any."

"Will do."

They picked a small market on the edge of the city. Curfew was nine o'clock in the D.C. area, so they had to hurry if they wanted to be back in time. They stuck to mostly non-perishables, except for the fruits and vegetables they'd eat in the next few days. Jamie hunted down Trotter's Devil Squares while Mitch made his way to the drink aisle. Bottled water was a hot commodity, but luck was on their side. A shipment had just been delivered, and Mitch grabbed three cases and shoved them onto the bottom rack of the cart.

He met her near the front, and as she placed the dessert cakes on top of the canned goods he caught sight of the small box in her other hand and spluttered. "Jamie? What are you -"

"Hey, you were the one worrying," she put the condoms in the cart and turned to pull the whole thing toward a checkout lane.

"Yeah, but I didn't mean…"

She started transferring their groceries onto the black conveyor as the cashier finished with the customer ahead of them. "Unless you want to stop having sex?"

Both the cashier and the man checking out glanced in their direction, but Jamie didn't seem to notice. Her unashamed, nonchalant tone flustered him further and he could feel the flush rising up his neck. "No," he pitched his voice lower in hopes that she'd do the same.

"Okay then," she continued unloading the cart, but he thought he caught sight of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. So she had noticed the looks her statement had garnered, she just enjoyed watching him squirm. It was moments like these that Mitch wished he was bolder. He'd love nothing more than to step up behind her and whisper something in her ear that would make _her_ blush, but the ingrained sense of propriety and his own insecurities kept him rooted the spot.

If she noticed his muted behavior, she didn't comment on it. They finished paying and took their gotten gains back to the SUV, where Mitch loaded them as Jamie rolled the empty cart to the return stall. Task complete, she slid into the passenger seat next to him and fiddled with the radio as he pointed them back toward the private airstrip Trotter had landed them on.

"You alright?" she asked finally when a radio announcement about the Noah Objective failed to get a snide response from him.

"Yeah," he told her. "Just...thinking." His head could be a pretty dark place sometimes. It was one of the main reasons he sought to occupy it with science facts and procedures in his down time. If left to its own devices, Mitch was sure he would get lost in a spiral of self-loathing and contempt that he knew only one way out of. Since he'd promised Jamie he wouldn't seek that option any longer, he forced himself to think of other things.

"Have you talked to your family recently?"

If Jamie was thrown by his sudden change of topic, she didn't show it. "I called Uncle Bo a few days ago," she said. "We talked for a while. He told me about Stephen."

 _Damn_ , he thought. He hadn't meant to bring their mood down even further. Her cousin had been living in Houston at the start of the animal uprising and, though Mitch had never gone digging for details, he'd inferred from a few conversations with Fran that the southeastern part of Texas hadn't fared well.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely. He'd heard enough stories from Stephen's twin, Sam, to know that she had been closest to the twins growing up. Learning that Reiden had - however indirectly - taken another family member from her couldn't be sitting well.

Jamie accepted his condolences with a nod before her smile turned wry. "He also said to tell you that you left your jacket at the house."

"Is that where I left it?" Mitch chuckled. "I was wondering. I liked that jacket, too."

"I can pick it up after this is all over," she turned her head to stare out the window as he drove them through the dark streets. "A few weeks relaxing at the farm is just what I need after the craziness. Wanna come?"

Mitch hated that she had to ask. He tried to comb through his recent memories and find anything that might have given her the impression that he would be anywhere but at her side. Was it his reluctance to bring any more children into this chaotic world they lived in? She hadn't seemed too adamant about, but he was notoriously bad at reading people. What if his noncommittal had been a test, one that he'd failed spectacularly?

"Earth to Mitch?" She waved a hand near his face, careful to keep his view of the road unobstructed. "You've got your focused, brooding face on."

"Huh?" he turned toward her slightly. "My what?"

"You get this face," she wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow comically, then relaxed back to her normal expression, "when you're thinking too hard about something non-science related."

"You've catalogued my faces?"

"Seriously?" she laughed then, and the sound lightened the burden on his heart. "I could stare at you for weeks and not be able to identify them all. You're...expressive."

"Expressive," he deadpanned. "I've been called a lot of things. That's not one of them."

"Well, you are." She sat back in her seat, her demeanor relaxed and content. "But you didn't answer my question. Do you wanna come with me to Louisiana?"

"You know, the last time you didn't really ask. Just bought me a plane ticket and cajoled me into tagging along."

"Mitch." Her tone told him to stop stalling, but she was still fighting a smile.

"I just...thought it was weird you asked," he admitted. "I guessed I assumed that once this was all over," he gestured vaguely with one hand, "we'd stick together." It wasn't like either of them had a lot of options on where to go; their respective apartments in L.A. were likely out of the question, and though Mitch knew he could stay with his mom in her home he wasn't sure how well it had fared. The more remote spaces of the country - like rural Louisiana - were far more untouched by the apocalypse and he'd just assumed he would be tagging along with her to the farm. They'd talked about it once before, but nothing had been set in stone.

"Of course we are," she sounded almost a little hurt, but she shook it off and continued. "I just didn't know if you wanted to deal with my crazy family for that long."

"Jamie," he smiled at her to take the sting out of his words, "I lived with them for almost a month after…"

"A month?"

Had he not actually told her? He'd mentioned driving down to deliver the news personally, mentioned attending her funeral, but he'd apparently never specifically said how long he'd stayed in Louisiana. "Well, it was more like three weeks, but yeah. From about a week after the crash until a few days before the Reiden hearing. Probably would have stayed longer if Chloe hadn't called."

She had nothing to say to that, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as she fell silent. She was smiling softly so he guessed her thoughts weren't too bad. He let go of the wheel and reached over the center console for her hand. She wrapped her thin fingers around his palm, and her smile blossomed a bit more.

"They must really like you," she said finally. "Uncle Bo always hated my other boyfriends. He'd never have let them stay at the farm, end of the world or no."

Mitch recalled the heart to heart chat he'd had with the eldest Armstrong in the kitchen after everyone else had retreated upstairs. Bo had thanked Mitch for looking out for Jamie, for caring about her. He'd known even then how deep Mitch's feelings had run for his niece, and looking back on the conversation Mitch could read between the lines. Bo had been giving his blessing, even after Jamie's death. In Bo's eyes, Mitch had been worthy of her.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, his eyes still glued to the road. "Guess that means you're stuck with me," he told her ruefully.

Her voice was thick with emotion when she answered. "Sounds good."

Dinner was a quiet affair as they took shifts in the kitchen. Despite their hours of downtime on the flight back to D.C., exhaustion settled over them like a heavy blanket as the hour grew late.

"Okay," Mitch said finally after another camera review turned up nothing. "Time for bed." His eyes were burning from staring at the screens for too long. Next to him, Jamie was drooping in her seat.

"Yeah," she sounded reluctant to abandon the search, so sure they were just one more camera away from finding out where Jackson and his father had gone.

"I'm going to continue looking," Abe announced.

"Abe," Jamie protested even as she stood.

"I will be fine," he assured her. "Get some rest."

Mitch ushered Jamie out the door before she could offer to stay up with him; she looked wiped despite their short day. He didn't feel much better.

"It's the jet lag," Jamie complained as they climbed into bed. "I'm not entirely sure what time zone my body is acclimated to." She fitted herself against his side easily and stifled a yawn.

Mitch hummed in response, his overtaxed mind already shutting down. He hadn't realized how tired he was until he'd laid down, and the thought of another six or seven hours of sleep sounded like heaven.

He was alone when he woke, but he didn't worry. Jamie was an early riser, and he trusted her to wake him if she needed him. He was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, see if he could sneak a few more minutes, but then he remembered Allison's imminent arrival and all thoughts of a peaceful, lazy morning fled.

He showered and dressed almost robotically, and when he stepped into the kitchen Jamie smiled and passed him the second mug of coffee she'd prepared.

"Thanks." He expected it to be cooler than he liked, but as he took a hesitant sip he realized it was still pleasantly warm. She hadn't been up for too long, then. "Seen Abe yet?"

"No," she shook her head. "I was just about to check in on him."

Mitch nodded his head toward the door and she followed easily. Abe wasn't in the lab, and a quick investigation found him on the upper level with a laptop and an eye-aching picture in picture screen that strained Mitch's eyes.

But Jamie was far more worried about her friend than Mitch's headache. "Abe, you've been up all night. You need to get some rest."

"No," Abe shook his head. "We're running out of time." They were, but Mitch didn't think that Abe dropping from exhaustion would particularly help their situation. Abe seemed to sense his thoughts, and glanced at the countdown ticking silently on the muted television behind him. "The Noah Objective launches in less than forty-eight hours."

"Maybe not," Allison breezed in dramatically with a pleased smile on her face. "I just got off the phone with Ivankov. He believes he's convinced enough ministers to vote against Davies to pull out of the Noah Objective."

Dariela turned from her place beside Abe. "Will that shut Davies down?"

"In a heartbeat," Jamie sounded almost triumphant. "His plan is to drop the gas in the Siberian jetstream and spread it all over Northern Europe. Without Russia, the Noah Objective's done." Mitch was impressed; she had done her homework. Of course, no one could accuse Jamie Campbell of not being thorough, or a quick study. When she set her mind to something, she assimilated information at a blindingly fast speed and didn't stop until she knew every facet. It was why her continued battle with Reiden had gone as long as it had; every time they blocked her, she just kept sifting through information, reports, and accounts until she found the next thing. Her tenacity was just one of the things Mitch loved about her.

"Thanks to you, and your little talk with Ivankov," he saluted her with his half-full mug. "Nice work." Her answering smile was part pride, part teasing. He hadn't meant that to sound quite so...lordly. But she deserved the credit for getting them this far - without her, they wouldn't even be talking to the Russian Cabinet of Ministers today.

"Jamie was very useful," Allison agreed flatly, "but the ministers still need to hear from the architect of the cure." Mitch like the sound of that. "The...tie wearing architect?"

That he did not like. "Nobody who ever saved the world needed to wear a tie." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jamie turn away to hide her grin from Allison. It didn't work.

"Fine," she huffed, "then change into whatever people who save the world wear and meet me in the vehicle bay."

"I'm going to stay here and continue looking for Jackson," Abe said.

"We have Vera Salvon secured in a safe zone." Allison had, on more than one occasion, accused him of being too clinical, too rational. He wondered how well she would take the same criticism. _Surely she could understand that they weren't just going to forget about their friend?_

"So?"

"So, we don't need Jackson." _Maybe not._

Abe's face remained impassive, but his tone was anything but. "I am not going anywhere until I find Jackson." Mitch's chest hitched with dark amusement and he bit back a bark of laughter. It was ironic really - his refusal to give up on Jackson, to continue looking for him - when he'd so easily abandoned Jamie in the wilds of Canada. At least they knew Jackson was safe, or at least not alone. His father would (probably) look out for him until they could find him again.

When Dariela seconded Abe's sentiment, Allison looked about ready to blow a gasket. Mitch held up his hands in an attempt at diplomacy.

"Alright, how about this? Divide and conquer," he said. "You guys go crash the Oz family reunion and we'll go restart the Cold War."

"Sounds like a plan," Dariela agreed, though Mitch suspected she would agree to anything he said so long as Allison kept acting like she owned most of the world and half its inhabitants.

He turned to Allison and finished the last of his coffee. "Five minutes," he told her.

The Russian Embassy was nestled snugly in the western corner of D.C., right between Cathedral Heights and Georgetown. Bordered by Archibald Glover Park to the west and the U.S. Naval Observatory to the east, it was almost four miles as the crow flies to the IADG headquarters and further still from the private airfield where Trotter had landed them. Allison drove, her attention split between the road and the phone cradled against her shoulder as she navigated the near empty streets of the nation's capital.

In the backseat, Jamie and Mitch observed the city with critical eyes. Under normal circumstances, the streets would be teeming with people going about their business or leisure. Now, D.C. looked like a ghost town. Vehicles that were on the road were large, heavy SUVs or trucks. Gone were the sleek, fiberglass bodies of sedans and sports cars. It had been almost two months since the National Zoo breakout, but the threat of being overrun by a large animal still loomed over the city and its inhabitants.

Much to Mitch's surprise the public transit system was still in operation, and Allison navigated them around a bus slowing to a stop next to a covered bench on Mass Ave. A single woman with graying hair and a hawkish nose stood with her handbag clutched against her chest, as though she was more afraid of a robber snatching it from her than a wild animal jumping out and attacking her. Mitch lost sight of her as Allison steered them around Dupont Circle and toward the west.

Allison turned right on Wisconsin and drove a few blocks before pulling into the small driveway barred by a large iron gate. Two men stood just inside the gate with dour expressions and automatic rifles. Allison seemed unperturbed.

"Allison Shaw, Deputy Secretary of Defense," she identified herself as one of the men stepped outside the gate. She flashed a badge, which the man checked, then checked again. His sharp gaze glanced to the backseat, and Mitch forced himself not to squirm under the scrutiny.

"Them?" the man nodded in their direction.

"Doctor Mitch Morgan and Jamie Campbell," Allison answered shortly. "We're expected by Minister Ivankov."

The guard handed her wallet back and made a motion with his hand for her to stay put. He walked to the gate and barked something in his native tongue. The other guard nodded sharply and stepped into the small guard shack off to the side of the gate. He came out moments later and began to open the gate wider.

Allison eased them through the just-wide-enough opening the guards gave. Mitch tossed a small wave toward the men, but neither returned it. As soon as the car was through, the gate was closed and their positions resumed as if nothing had happened.

"Friendly bunch," Mitch muttered.

The embassy was a square, white building sitting among other square, white buildings on Wisconsin Avenue. The only thing that differentiated it from the others was the two story flagpole flying the white, blue and red flag of the Russian Federation. The building itself was seven or eight stories, and as Allison pulled their SUV into a designated space Mitch glanced up.

Six large, black birds sat on the railing that ran around the rooftop, and as he watched two more joined them. Jamie followed his gaze as they both unbuckled and stepped out of the car, her hand shielding her eyes as she counted.

"Crows?"

"Yeah," Mitch nodded. "Not entirely sure how I feel about walking into a building that's being watched by a murder."

"A what?" Allison locked the car but made no move toward the front doors.

"A gathering of crows is a murder," Mitch gestured. "Seems like a bad omen, is all."

"Bad omen?" Jamie's tone was teasing. "Better not let the other scientists hear you talking like that. You won't get invited back to the scientist convention."

"Can we focus?" Allison pulled them away from their banter and nodded toward the door before walking away. Mitch just shrugged and followed, just barely resisting the urge to grab Jamie's hand as the crows gave a loud call at the exact moment they passed under.

The quiet exterior of the building belied the dizzying throng of people milling about within, like ants in a hill. Mitch remembered that the Cabinet of Ministers was meeting today and guessed the number of people meant most of them were already in attendance.

"Secretary Shaw," a woman greeted as they entered, her smile flat but welcoming. "My name is Galina. Minister Ivankov asked me to greet you. He will be down shortly." Her auburn hair was pulled back in a severe bun, highlighting the angular features of her heritage. Her voice was clipped and barely accented, and Mitch found himself jealous of her linguistic ability. He'd barely been able to pass high school Spanish - he could handle the rote memorization, but any time a verbal test came up he stuttered through it awkwardly.

"Thank you," Allison accepted the greeting politely and turned to introduce her companions.

Galina turned toward Mitch and Jamie with an equally diplomatic smile. "Can I offer you some refreshment? A bottle of water?"

"Uh, no," Mitch shook his head. "No, thank you," he amended quickly. Jamie echoed his declination and cast a careful eye around the room. Mitch watched her watching everyone else and hated the almost mistrustful glint in her blue eyes. He knew a part of it was her reporter background - everyone had a story to tell, he supposed, and she was trained to sniff them out. But there was more to her wariness than a journalist's instincts; she looked almost like an animal trapped and cornered. Armed men lined the walls at regular intervals, and even more patrolled the entrances to the hallways that branched off from the lobby. There was only one exit, the door they'd come in, and with everyone bustling about inside there were now about a dozen people between them and the glass doors.

Allison either didn't notice Jamie's unease or chose to ignore it. "The Russians have to believe we have the cure," she angled her body in as though shielding her words from any eavesdroppers. Mitch idly wondered if the Russians would go so far as to bug their own embassy.

"Which would be a full on lie," Mitch matched her level. "I could tell them we're close. But we're still short one animal - an animal that's been extinct for 14,000 years. So, we're really not that close are we?" He tended to ramble when he got nervous, and standing in the Russian Embassy about to address a room full of Ministers to decide the fate of the world made him more than a little nervous.

"I told them that," Jamie volunteered. "Except I left out the extinction part and the mysterious island of Pangaea."

Allison slowed to a stop and plastered a fake smile on her face. "Just go up there, smile, and tell them that we can fix it. We'll figure the rest out later."

Mitch followed her eyes to a man who was making their way toward them. He guessed this was Ivankov if Allison's suddenly sycophantic demeanor was anything to go by. Still, her so-called simple solution grated on his nerves. "Says the woman who doesn't have to figure it out later."

Her politician's mask slipped ever so slightly as her irritation with him edged into her tone. "Mitch, some people are born great. Others have greatness thrust upon them. This is your chance."

He'd always hated that saying. Luckily, he had a comeback. "To become one of the thrusted?"

The man was upon them, shadowed closely by a woman, a child, and a gentleman in a suit who looked to be about an inch or two shorter than the minister himself. Jamie was smiling - a genuine one, not her professional, work smile - so Mitch relaxed and bit back a joke about Russian bodyguards and their clients. _In Soviet Russia…_

"Minister Ivankov," Jamie greeted the man warmly, extending her hand to him to shake.

"Ms. Campbell," he returned her smile with one of his own. Mitch was surprised to see real warmth on his face as he spoke to Jamie, like they were old friends. The minister turned to the woman at his side with a flat palm. "This is my wife, Sabine. My daughter, Tasha." He glanced over at Allison and the warmth in his eyes cooled considerably. "Ms. Shaw. And you must be Professor Morgan," he turned to Mitch finally.

"I am." He hated small talk. Luckily, Jamie was very good at it.

"Thank you for having us," she said when it was clear Mitch was floundering.

"Don't thank me," Ivankov held up a hand. "Just convince my cabinet that your cure is our only option."

"That's exactly what we'll do," Allison said confidently. Mitch could tell from her tone that she wasn't a fan of the way Jamie seemed to be taking control of the situation, which made Ivankov's next words all the sweeter.

"Not 'we.' You won't be attending, Ms. Shaw. You are a high-ranking U.S. government official," he explained quickly. "It cannot appear as though we are pushing the U.S. agenda." He sounded apologetic, but Mitch took a guess that he wasn't feeling terribly broken up about leaving Allison out of the proceedings.

"Very well," Allison surrendered graciously and turned to Mitch. "I will meet with you both after the vote is called. Good luck." She sauntered away, no doubt off to do whatever it was government officials did during their regular office hours. Mitch didn't want to think about it.

"These are the people who are going to make it so you can ride a real horse again," Ivankov said, and Mitch blinked. Then he realized the minister wasn't talking to them; he was addressing his daughter.

The little girl smiled up at them, her eyes bright with innocence and wonder. "You are going to fix the animals?" she asked eagerly.

Jamie seemed just as taken aback by the girl's absolute faith as he was. She recovered first. "Uh, that's the plan, yeah."

Tasha's grin grew wider as she turned to her mother, her small body bouncing in excitement. Sabine laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder and smiled back before nodding to her husband and moving away. Ivankov watched them go, then began walking toward the elevators. Mitch and Jamie followed soon after.

"You will explain in detail how the cure is being made," he began. "How you will disperse it into the world. The Cabinet will take a vote, but it is symbolic. I've already convinced the majority that the Noah Objective is short-sighted and aggressive."

Mitch couldn't help himself. "Well, when the Russians think a plan is too aggressive, you know something's wrong."

An attache moved into Ivankov's space and leaned in. "The meeting's about to begin, sir."

Ivankov thanked him and continued on. "The DNA bank they plan to use to restart the animal population...can they prove it's viable?"

Mitch took a breath to answer, but Jamie beat him to it. "Even if it is, the ecosystem will be destroyed. Ninety percent of all plants rely on animals for pollination. What would humans eat if all of the animals and ninety percent of plants were just gone? It would take decades to restore the balance, if we even survive that long."

Mitch stared for a moment, completely dumbstruck. She'd taken a large amount of scientific data - no doubt gleaned from the innumerable books and articles she read - and condensed all of the relevant information into four sentences. He had never before met anyone with her capability to assimilate, process, and summarize information in such a short amount of time.

"Davies has said none of this," Ivankov shook his head as his guard reached out to press the elevator button.

It dinged as Mitch leaned toward Jamie. "Well, someone's been paying attention in class." She tossed a sickly sweet smile over her shoulder as he followed her into the elevator. Raised voices followed them, and Mitch turned sharply as a gunshot barked, echoing across the lobby.

"What is…"

A deep bellow rent the air, and suddenly the murmuring turned to screams as people began fleeing. As the crowds parted, Mitch found the large, dark shape of a gorilla barreling through a set of armed guards. With a roar of challenge it charged, ignoring the gunfire and aiming straight for the open elevator. Jamie clutched at his jacket, her fingers pinching the back of his arm as she peered over his shoulder. He pressed back immediately, putting her firmly in the corner of the elevator car as the doors began to close.

Ivankov lurched forward. "Sabine! Tasha!"

"Get back!" His guard pushed him away from the doors, preventing him from holding them open and exposing them to the murderous ape. The doors closed just in time, but they all jumped back as the doors shook violently under the impact of the gorilla on the other side. The entire car rocked as the beast pounded against the metal, and Mitch braced himself against the wall as Jamie clung to his arm. Finally the car began to rise, but enough damage had been done. It shuddered to a stop soon after as the entire elevator was plunged into darkness.

"Tasha!" Ivankov cried again, and this time his voice was filled with grief.

Mitch could feel Jamie trembling behind him, her breaths rapid and shallow in his ear. How the hell had gorillas gotten into the embassy? He could guess how they'd breached the walls - ten foot high concrete barriers weren't really a problem for an animal that strong, especially with the trees that surrounded the property. The question was, why did they decide to do so now?

He could still hear the faint sound of screaming as the carnage continued downstairs, and Ivankov was already reaching for the doors as the emergency lights came on. "We have to go back down there!"

"We will, sir!" The guard was pushing the fire button, hoping to contact anyone on the outside. "Hold on!"

Mitch stepped away from the wall, giving Jamie some room as he reached for his phone.

"There's security everywhere," she said. He could hear the notes of panic in her voice. "I'm sure Tasha and Sabine are safe."

"There's no one picking up," Ivankov cursed and pushed back from the panel and started trying to wedge the doors open.

"No signal," Mitch tucked his phone back into his pocket with a sigh of disgust. "Which should be expected, 'cause we're in a metal box."

"Yeah, well, we gotta get out of the metal box." Jamie seemed to have stuffed her panic back down, and Mitch envied her composure. He was about three seconds from losing his own when the elevator lurched again and a loud boom resonated from somewhere above them. The gorilla had found its way into the elevator shaft, on the hunt for its prey.

Mitch glanced up as they all ducked instinctively. "See, this is where being in a metal box works in our favor."

They all fell silent as the gorilla bellowed again, closer than before. They all held their breath, hoping that it would leave them alone and bypass them. Silence fell over the car, and Mitch reached for Jamie's hand.

He never found it. The emergency hatch at the top of the elevator exploded open as the enraged beast snarled, reaching blindly down into the elevator. Jamie jumped back with the guard as Mitch ducked the opposite direction. Ivankov crouched next to him, his entire body tensed and trembling as the gorilla raged above them.

Mitch looked across at Jamie, just feet away but out of reach. She had pressed herself against the side wall, huddled low. He could tell by the look on her face that she was terrified; he probably had the same expression on his. In the space of two heartbeats she glanced up, blue eyes locking with brown, and nodded. She was okay.

He blew out a breath of relief that was short-lived as the large, hairy arm groped for anything to mangle. The hatch had stopped halfway open, stopping it from dropping down. Mitch was grateful for small miracles. If that thing got inside, there would be no escape. All four of them would die gruesome deaths. Since the start of this crazy journey, Mitch had pictured a dozen ways that he and his friends could die. He could honestly say that being beaten to death by a great ape was low on his list of ways to go.

Frustrated at its inability to reach them, the gorilla reared back. The second it retreated the minister's guard sprang into action. He reached up for the grate, pushing it up as Ivankov joined him. Mitch could hear the gorilla thrashing in the space above them, searching for a way inside. They needed to act fast.

Mitch kept low as he crossed over to Jamie and pulled her to the back of the elevator. A long handrail was screwed into the wall, and a quick test proved it could be ripped away fairly easily. She caught on quickly, wrapping her hands around the metal bar and pulled with him.

"Hurry!" They'd managed to close the hatch, but the gorilla was pushing back. Mitch spared a small portion his brain to calculate the force needed to hold it back and wasn't encouraged by their chances.

Mitch groaned as he worked the bar back and forth. "Not all of us are built like you, Mr. Clean!"

Angry grunts and snarls filled the space, and Mitch heard Ivankov's guard yell something. Without another word, he yanked the hatch open and fired his gun up into the darkness. _One, two, three..._ Mitch counted the shots as he winced against the deafening noise. The gorilla stopped, and Ivankov peered up into the hole warily.

"Is he dead?"

The guard lowered his weapon. "I think so."

Mitch wasn't convinced. Three shots from a handgun would do little to slow down a crazed gorilla. Before he could mention it, a hairy, black hand reached down and grabbed Mr. Clean by the face. He screamed as he was yanked upward, through the hatch and into the shaft. The gun barked again, and Mitch lurched forward.

"Shut that!" He turned back to the handrail and began shaking it up and down as he tried to drown out the sound of the agonizing screams above them. Jamie joined in, and after a few more seconds the rail came free. Mitch wedged one end into the hatch then propped the other end against the wall, bracing it in the molding to keep it from slipping. Mitch grimaced as a viscous, red substance began to trickle down through the holes in the grate and he tried not to think about the Russian man who was likely now just a bloody pulp.

The gorilla was still up there, its anger not abated by the kill it had made. They were safe for now, but that wouldn't last long.

"We have to get out of here."

Mitch agreed with the minister, but with the emergency operations out of order and the rampaging gorilla above them, they were running out of options. The rail shook as the animal tried to force its way in, but it held.

"We gotta get these doors open," Jamie stepped up and tried to slip her fingers in between the seam. Mitch rose to help her. They were running out of time, and he could only hope they'd gone high enough to reach another floor. If they got these doors open and found nothing but a wall, they would likely die here.

He knew he should probably say something meaningful - that now would be a good time to remind her how much he loved her and that if given the chance to do it all over again he'd make that call and invite her to lunch. He wanted to tell her that she'd changed his life for the better. wanted to thank her for bringing light and warmth into his otherwise cold and dark life.

But he'd never been great under pressure and sarcastic was his default setting.

"Just in case we can't," he huffed as she got a grip on one of the doors, "have I thanked you lately for dragging me into this insanity?" He had the other, and he threw his body weight back in an effort to prise the doors open.

She grunted in reply, straining as she pulled again. "Come to think of it, no."

"Thank you," he matched her flat smile. "Been a real treat." Ivankov yelled something that was drowned out by the pounding from above. "You know, I could have waited out the animal apocalypse from the comfort of my couch."

Her face was a mask of concentration tinged with fear, but he saw the corner of her mouth slant upward slightly as she glanced at him. "Where's the fun in that?"

Ivankov turned his head. "You two should get a bigger room!"

Mitch threw Jamie a grin at his words, wagging his eyebrows at the suggestion just as the doors gave and came apart, revealing the top half of a second set of doors. Luck was on their side - they had stopped just above the next floor.

The second set of doors came open much easier than the first, and Mitch slipped down first before turning to help Jamie out. Ivankov came last and as soon as he was clear Mitch laid his palms flat against the doors and pushed them together again, sealing them off from the still-angry gorilla trying to force its way down into the car.

When he turned back, Jamie had stopped one of the frightened people scurrying around. "Excuse me, do you know what's happening?"

"The animals are still in the lobby," the woman said fearfully. "The police are here but we don't know if they've contained them. We don't know where to go."

Mitch angled away from the woman and leaned in to keep his words from carrying. "If that gorilla gets out here he's gonna slaughter all these people. And us," he added as an afterthought.

"Fireman key," Jamie said suddenly.

"There's no fireman or key." Ivankov grumbled.

Jamie ignored him and hurried on, and he could practically see the plan coming together in her mind. "If we can jam the key we can send the elevator back down to the lobby. It'll take the gorilla with it."

Mitch was struck dumb for a moment at the brilliance of her mind. He opened his mouth to make a comment about beauty _and_ brains, but what came out was something entirely different.

"Marry me?"

Ivankov swore in Russian as Jamie gaped at him like a fish.

"Never mind," Mitch rushed on, glancing around for anything that could be used to enact her plan. His eyes fell on the woman still hovering just out of earshot, then down to her shoes. "Hi, excuse me. Can I borrow your shoe?"

"What?"

Jamie seemed to have recovered from her shock as she caught on to his train of thought. "Oh, yeah, give him your shoe." She held out a hand to steady to the woman as she slipped the three inch heel off and handed it over. Jamie passed it to Mitch, but as he took it she gripped it tighter and leaned forward. "We'll talk about this later."

He grimaced as he wrapped his hands around the heel and the shoe, applying enough pressure until it snapped. He held it up triumphantly, but Jamie snatched it from his grasp quickly.

"We gotta get back in there."

He could tell from her body language and tone that he wasn't going to like the next part of this plan. Ivankov didn't seem to like it either.

"You can't do that," he protested. "It will kill you!"

"We'll be fine," Jamie promised with a lot more confidence than Mitch felt. "Just get these people someplace safe."

A moment passed between them before the minister nodded solemnly and turned to the still-panicking masses. "Everybody come with me!" He disappeared around a corner with three or four people in tow, looking every bit the calm, collected leader he should.

"Alright," Jamie glanced back up at the closed elevator doors with a look that was part determination and part terror. "I've got to get all the way back in the elevator, jam the key, then get back out before it cuts me in half."

Mitch could feel his own white-hot terror creeping up his spine. "Sounds good. I'll watch."

A withering stare was her answer. "You have to hoist me up."

"Yeah, yeah. I know the drill." There wasn't any piece of this plan he liked - he particularly hated the part where she had to get back in the elevator - but he didn't have a better one and they were out of time.

"Well, try to do it before King Kong rips my throat out, okay?"

He wanted to reply, tell her morbid humor was _his_ thing and could she just stick to ribbing him about his work hours and not throw herself in the path of a bloodthirsty monster? But it got stuck in his throat and he could only mumbled an agreement as she reopened the doors and eyed her angle of attack. The ceiling was beginning to buckle under the combined pressure of the gorilla's weight and his constant pounding.

"You ready?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she nodded briskly. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He bent his knees and interlocked his fingers to create a cradle for her foot. She put one hand over his shoulders and held tight to the broken heel as she used his strength to raise herself up into the elevator. It wasn't quite low enough that she could sit on the floor, so Mitch held her weight against his arm as she reached for the panel.

The gorilla raged on above her head, roaring and smashing, trying to get at the small woman below. Mitch felt Jamie straining to reach, and he shuffled his feet beneath him to give her a little bit more lift. It didn't work. The grate at the ceiling buckled slightly as the rail they had braced against it broke into pieces.

Mitch panicked. "That's it, I'm pulling you out."

"No!" she raised up on her toes and he had to adjust the grip he had on her legs to keep her from climbing up into the elevator completely. "I can almost reach it!" A few more tense seconds went by as the gorilla grew more agitated, emboldened by the caving grate beneath him. "Okay, now! _Now_!"

He released her legs quickly, letting gravity pull her as his hands moved to shield her head from impacting the top of the door. The elevator gave a soft ding that was drowned out by the four hundred pound behemoth that came crashing through the ceiling at last. But the doors were already closing, and as it stood it could only roar in defiance as the car descended back toward the lobby.

Mitch grabbed Jamie around the middle as she stumbled to catch her footing. He held tightly in both support and relief. She ended up flush against his chest and he made no move to put distance between them as she caught her breath. He could feel her heartbeat pounding against his chest, even through their layers, and as she glanced up he tried to offer a reassuring smile.

"I'm okay," she whispered. She tried to take some of her weight back but the fast-fading adrenaline left her off balance and weak. Her knees buckled and he barely had enough time to reach out and slow her fall to the floor. He angled her against the cool metal door of the elevator and lowered himself beside her.

"Nice work," he said after a few quiet seconds.

"Wish I could say the same." Her breathing had evened back out but her voice still held the tight, tense notes of fear. "You panicked. Almost pulled me too soon."

He had. At any moment that animal could have come for her, grabbed her, beaten her to death right in front of his eyes, and there would have been nothing he could do. Just the thought made his hands clench on his knees and he forced himself to take a breath.

"Well," he injected a lot more levity into his tone than he felt, "you've already lost a toe for this team. I think losing an arm - or a head - would just be showing off."

She laughed at that, a breath escaping just a bit faster than normal as her mouth curved upward. Her smaller fingers slipped over his, loosening the grip on his legs as she laid her head against his shoulder. "Guess we've always been a pretty good team, huh?"

"Uh, yeah," he shifted a little to press his leg along hers. Their fingers wove together and settled in his lap, though his thumb still moved back and forth over her smooth skin as a reminder that she was real and solid next to him. "Guess we do."

"Be a shame to break up a set."

"What?" His mind was adept at making leaps of logic of varying distances, but sometimes her thoughts spun so far out that he couldn't follow.

"Your question," she clarified without actually clearing anything up. "Earlier?"

"Oh."

"Did you mean it?"

"I, uh," he cleared his throat softly and thought about her question. Or, rather, his question. It had sort of slipped out between his teeth before he could clamp down on it, but now that it was out there he didn't want it back. He didn't often allow himself the indulgence of future fantasies, but if he let his mind stretch beyond this moment he realized he couldn't imagine a single moment of his life to come without her. He'd already lived like that once - it wasn't a scenario he was keen on repeating.

"Yeah," he breathed finally. "I mean...not right now, obviously. And I think as proposals go I could probably do better with a little more prep time. But eventually…"

"Eventually," she agreed with a satisfied smile he hadn't seen on her face in a long time. It had been absent so long he'd forgotten what hope looked like on her. It was good, and he felt a surge of pride at being the one who'd brought it back for her. He nudged her head with his nose softly, and when she lifted it from his shoulder he leaned in to kiss her.

"Anybody up here?"

The voice interrupted them, and they leaned away from each other quickly like teenagers caught necking in a car. Jamie laughed at something - probably him - as she answered. A man in black military garb stepped around the corner.

"Lobby's been secured. It's safe to come back down."

Mitch stood and helped Jamie to her feet. He asked her silently if she was alright and she answered with a quick nod of her head. The hand he wasn't holding was shaking slightly, but he thought only he noticed it as they followed the man back to the stairwell.

They emerged onto the ground floor amid dozens of voices calling for help, for family and friends, for people who could no longer hear them. Mitch felt Jamie stiffen next to him and he squeezed her hand gently as they surveyed the carnage. Bodies littered the floor, covered by plain white cloths stained red in places. Mitch had worked in enough emergency rooms that the scene halted him for only a moment. Jamie fared worse.

"Oh my God." Her free hand was covering her mouth, and as they passed a set of draped bodies with arms still outstretched toward one another she turned her head into his shoulder and closed her eyes.

In the center of the room sat Ivankov and his wife, the smaller woman curled into her husband as she wept silently. Allison stood next to them offering quiet condolences, but as she caught sight of Mitch and Jamie she stepped away.

"I came back as soon as I heard about the attack," she explained. Her eyes followed Jamie's to the Russian minister and his wife. "Their daughter was killed, along with fourteen other people."

To Mitch's surprise, Jamie found her voice before him. "They're not...uh, they're not still on board. Are they?"

"Would you be?" Her tone wasn't harsh, just blunt, and Jamie shook her head.

"Well, this doesn't change the facts," Mitch argued quietly. "The Noah Objective is still gonna cost many, many more lives in the long run."

"Try explaining to a man whose daughter was just murdered by a crazed gorilla that any plan to rid the world of crazed gorillas isn't a plan worth pursuing." She sighed. "I gave everything I had to this team. I believed in what we were doing. But we lost. We just played our last card." Her entire body was sagged in defeat and Mitch thought she'd never looked smaller. She wore her attitude like an armor, big and bold and sure. He supposed she had to, to survive in this town. But now she just looked...worn out. "The gas is going to drop and the world is never going to be same. We made the animals our enemies, the monsters. But we're the monsters. And now we're going to punish them for our mistakes."

It was the most profound statement he'd ever heard her make, and it was to announce that she was giving up. Davies had won. All of the reasons he'd grown to detest her presence faded away as he grasped at the last few strands of their hope for survival. "No, look, we'll find another way."

"For the first time in my life I wish that you were right and I was wrong. The plane is all yours, but I have to get back to work. I couldn't help you save the animals, but I can help the people of this country try and survive whatever comes next." She glanced at Jamie for a moment, then gave them a flat smile. "I, uh, wish the best for you both." Before Mitch could say anything else she lifted herself up to kiss his cheek briefly before disappearing out the door.

The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving only the low, clipped chatter of medical personnel and the soft, keening cries of Sabine Ivankov.

"Come on." Mitch turned to leave, unable to witness the horrific scene a moment longer.

Jamie hesitated behind him, her eyes still stuck on the draped bodies littering the lobby. "We can't just leave them," she protested weakly.

"We can't do anything more for them," he reasoned, pitching his voice low so it wouldn't carry across the marble foyer. "Right now we need to focus on getting that last animal and finishing the cure."

"How?" she swiped angrily at a tear that escaped from her eyes. "How can we possibly hope to do that before the Noah Objective launches?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I was going to stand here and wish really hard." He hadn't meant to sound so callous, but seeing the hope she'd so recently regained vanish once more behind her veil struck a nerve. She flinched slightly and he instantly regretted his tone. "Look," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it further. It had been too long since he'd seen a barber and it was completely unmanageable at this length. Fortunately his current day job didn't have a strict dress code. Jamie had crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes looking anywhere but his face. She knew he was right; she was also just as stubborn as he was. "I know things look bad but I'm not giving up now. Not when we're this close."

"Fine," Jamie seemed to relent, though her tone had hardened. "So we need to get back to the plane, find some mysterious island, hunt down a sabertooth cat, synthesize a cure, and figure out how to deliver said cure to every animal on the planet. All in less than two days' time. That about cover it?" She quirked one eyebrow at him and he stifled a bark of laughter. Given the somber blanket of grief that had settled over the area, Mitch thought amusement might not be the most appropriate emotion right now.

He settled for a muted smile. "Yep." His phone buzzed in his pocket and Jamie's followed his movement as he fished it from his pocket. The smirk on his face melted away at the words on his screen.

"What is it?" Jamie shuffled closer to glance at the message.

"Allison," he sighed. "She said the plane had to take off to avoid Davies and is currently off the radar. Someone had Trotter turn off the transponder."

"So we're stuck here?"

He didn't answer her somewhat rhetorical question - it was quite obvious they were stuck - and instead found Abe's number in his contacts.

"Mitch," the man's accented voice was tinged with relief. "We heard about the attack at the Russian Embassy. Are you and Jamie alright?"

"Yeah, we're fine," he said. Jamie caught his eye and he shook his head silently. "Allison just texted and said you had to take off?"

"Jackson came back with his father and we took off so Davies couldn't follow."

"Jackson's father is there? A little heads up would have been nice," he snapped. "Did everyone forget I'm the leader of this insane crew?"

"We were a little busy fending off F-18s," Abe shot back curtly. "Next time, however, we'll be sure to stop what we're doing and send you a memo."

Mitch pointedly ignored the sarcasm behind the words. "Thank you." Then the other man's words sunk in and he sputtered. "F-18s?"

"Davies scrambled jet fighters from a carrier since we flew out of US air space. Currently we are en route to Pangaea."

Mitch heard a man's muffled voice over the line asking for the phone. There was a slur of static before Jackson spoke. "Mitch, listen, we're sorry. We can't come back for you and Jamie. My father knows about Pangaea. He gave me the coordinates. He also mentioned something about the Shepherds."

"Jackson," Mitch raised an eyebrow. "You sound...less crazy." Next to him, Jamie looked on expectantly. At Jackson's name she perked up curiously.

"My father gave me something, a pill. I don't know what was in it, but it seems to be fighting off the worst of the effects for now." Jackson took a breath, and when he spoke again it was quieter. "I'll send you the coordinates my father gave me. Maybe you and Jamie can meet us there. If not…"

"If not, then your father's going to have to manufacture the cure," Mitch finished for him. "Are you sure you can trust him?"

"No," Jackson let out a humorless laugh. "But we don't really have much of a choice, do we?"

"No," Mitch glanced down at his scuffed shoes and closed his eyes. "We don't. Listen, just be careful."

"You too," Jackson returned. "Take care of each other. Hopefully we'll see you soon." The line disconnected, leaving Mitch standing alone with Jamie. His phone buzzed once, and he glanced down at the series of numbers that he knew would be the location of Pangaea. With another sigh he thumbed the phone off and slid it back into his pocket.

"Looks like we're on our own."


	25. Pangaea - Pragma

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 25: Pangaea - Pragma

 _Stranded in D.C., Jamie and Mitch search for a way to stop the Noah Objective as Jackson and the others finish the cure._

* * *

Jamie followed Mitch out onto Wisconsin Avenue. Emergency personnel still bustled around hurriedly, and she had to stifle another gasp at the sheer number of injured that were still being treated. Mitch seemed stunned as well, but he shook it off and directed her toward a bus stop just outside the embassy fence.

"You think the bus will get through all of this?" she asked him, indicating the myriad of cars, ambulances, and fire trucks that were blocking the entire street. Mitch frowned and turned a complete circle as though searching for something.

"We'll have to go a few blocks north," he said finally. "Georgetown Hospital is south, so that's where all of the ambulances will be headed. There should be a bus stop at Massachusetts."

"Have you been to D.C. before?" He seemed to know where to go, but that didn't surprise her. Mitch seemed to have an endless fount of random knowledge.

"I worked at Georgetown for about a year," he told her as she fell into step beside him. Jamie noticed how he slowed his own gait to allow her to walk at a comfortable pace but didn't comment. "This was back before I realized that being a people doctor really wasn't for me. I made it to my first year of residency." She tried to picture him then, younger and more carefree. Ready to help people. A little less cynical and a little more vibrant. She wondered what she would have thought of him if she'd met him then.

They reached the next bus stop a few minutes later. No one was sitting on the bench, and for a moment Jamie panicked. What if the buses weren't running any more? What if they were attacked while they were waiting? They had no weapons, no means of defense at all. She glanced around furtively as she felt a rush of adrenaline she knew all too well. It had been her constant companion in Canada, never knowing what was waiting over the next hill. It had kept her alive then, and its sudden surge now actually put her more at ease. This she knew. This was familiar.

If Mitch noticed her heightened awareness he didn't show it. After a few seconds it was clear no attack was imminent and Jamie took slow breaths to calm her racing heart. Mitch kept his eyes on the map of the bus routes, spending much more time than she knew he needed to memorize their destination. He was giving her time, she realized. He had noticed, and rather than try to baby her or offer meaningless platitudes, he let her work through the moment on her own. She didn't know whether to be touched by his thoughtfulness or annoyed that he still felt he needed to use kid gloves with her. For simplicity's sake, she went with the former.

"Where to?" She moved just behind him to peer over his shoulder at the map.

He tapped his finger against the bus stop they were currently occupying, then traced a line southeast to a spot just south of Capitol Hill. "Jackson said his dad mentioned something about Shepherds."

"Shepherds? You think those are the people who created the animals?" It stood to reason that there would be a small group in charge of engineering the animals as well as maintain the populations.

"That's what we need to find out," Mitch turned his head to look at her. "I figure we'll sniff out as much as we can on them and forward it to the team. With Robert Oz leading them, there's no telling how much he's actually shared. They'll be flying in blind."

Information gathering was Jamie's stock-in-trade, but even she was stumped on how to begin. "How do you propose we do that? Secret organizations tend not to broadcast their existence, let alone what they're up to."

"Look where we are," Mitch turned around and leaned back against the map. "D.C. is filled to the brim with whack-job conspiracy theorists. The trick is finding the right whack job."

A memory came back to her, beginning as a tickle at the back of her mind but returning with more force as she focused on it. A name, not his real one but it would have to do. She pulled out her phone, opened a browser and turned so Mitch could see her screen.

"There's a blog writer here in D.C. He deals mostly with environmental stuff, cover ups, stuff like that." She didn't say why she knew about him. Mitch already knew the story of her mom and the tragedy that had very nearly destroyed her hometown. He stayed silent, letting the moment pass, and Jamie found the link. "Here it is." She held it up for inspection, and he squinted to read the small letters.

" _The Green Piece_. Cute. You know him?"

"We've emailed," Jamie affirmed.

"What's his name?" Mitch asked.

"I don't know his real name," she told him. "He goes by Robin, but I'm sure that's not his actual name."

"Robin?" Mitch scoffed. "As in 'Holy Hero Complex Batman?'"

"No," Jamie shook her head, "at least, that's not what he says. It has something to do with Native American symbolism about knowledge and wisdom." Mitch grumbled something under his breath but Jamie was too focused on her phone to bother calling him out on his attitude. "He usually responds pretty quickly. At least," she amended, "he did before everything went to hell." She quickly glanced the front page of the blog, encouraged by the current date on the most recent article. She found the contact link and clicked on it, shooting off a quick message with her own blog alias. The bus came before his answer, and they both decided that being out in the open was too dangerous.

The only other occupants were an elderly couple in the front row and a young man a few seats back in a three-piece suit. He was talking into an earpiece and didn't even glance at them as they stepped up. The driver was not much older than her, and he nodded at them as Mitch flashed the day passes he'd purchased at the kiosk. They had gone only a few blocks when Jamie's phone beeped with a message.

"He says he'll meet us at a cafe on Nebraska. Davenport?" She did a quick search and showed Mitch.

"That's close," he told her. "There's a bus stop at Nebraska and New Mexico." What was normally a ten minute trip took almost half an hour with the stops between. Finally they were standing on the corner of Nebraska and New Mexico Avenue. With only a cursory glance between them, they set off on the next stage in what was becoming a rather epic quest.

The Davenport Cafe was just across the street from the bus stop, a bottom-level piece of a larger beige building that seemed to be a part of a college. The standard A-frame sign sat out front detailing the day's specials, and a note near the bottom indicated that American University students received a 10% discount with student ID. Even in the crisis, business was business.

The barista behind the counter glanced up as they walked in. She couldn't have been much more than 18, all bright smiles and cheerful greetings as Jamie waved back lamely. Her contact had told her he would grab a booth near the back. They worked their way through the maze of tables until they found a lone occupant sitting with his back to the door. She had never seen a picture of him, but the quick glance at the screen of his tablet told her they had the right man. No one these days was too keen on saving the animals, and the ALF logo she could see told her all she needed to know.

"Robin?" she queried, and the man turned slightly. His hood obscured most of his face, but the scruff of salt and pepper stubble on his chin told her he was at least middle age or older. She stood frozen for a moment trying to reconcile this reality with the image she'd created in her head. She'd always assumed he was her contemporary, young and headstrong. She'd always felt a sort of kinship with him despite the anonymity of their relationship, and to see that he was closer to Mitch's age than hers startled her.

"Genie," he greeted. Next to her, Mitch turned his head sharply to glance at her. She hadn't gotten around to divulging the particulars about her own blog, or the reason behind the nickname, though he'd seen her tattoo more than once. No doubt his brilliant mind had already made the connection and was now pondering just how this stranger knew as well. Deciding that could wait until later, she offered Robin a perfunctory smile and slid into the booth seat opposite him. Mitch sat next to her, his critical gaze sweeping over their new companion quickly.

"Mitch Morgan," Robin beat her to the introductions, and both of them started in surprise. It was still a bit disconcerting to know they were somewhat famous around the world. The priest in Britain had mentioned something about following their exploits, but she had been so wrapped up in solving the next piece of their puzzle that she honestly hadn't given it much thought. The surreality of it came back in a rush as Mitch took control of the conversation.

"We haven't met," he said. His tone was gruff and to the point; Mitch didn't have many friends and this guy wasn't one of them.

"No," Robin laughed, his green eyes alight with amusement. "But I have heard of you." He glanced back at Jamie and his smile softened into familiarity. "I can't say I'm honestly surprised to find out that _The Girl with the Genie Tattoo_ and Jamie Campbell are one in the same."

Jamie realized she was quickly losing control of the interview, and she utilized her years of journalism experience to redirect the conversation. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. With everything going on…" She let the end of her sentence trail off, allowing Robin to interpret as he would.

He didn't disappoint. "When they announced the Noah Objective, my friends and I immediately moved to counter it. We didn't get very far."

"No one did," Jamie replied sadly. "We almost had something, but it fell through at the last minute." She winced internally at the cold description of the attack that had claimed fifteen lives, including the bright-eyed girl that had been so hopeful about riding a horse again. Outwardly, though, she maintained her cool expression.

"Did you hear about the attacks at the Russian Embassy?" Robin leaned in a conspiratorially, and Jamie just nodded. She didn't want to reveal too much, and so kept the fact that they had been there to herself. "Well, rumors on the net are it was no random attack."

"What do you mean?" Mitch asked.

"I mean, come on," Robin laughed quietly, "there were no reported animal sightings anywhere near Wisconsin and suddenly there are huge angry gorillas? Not buying it. Word is they were released intentionally."

"Why?" Jamie felt a fire in her chest that was somewhere between confusion and rage.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Robin replied. "Russia was the biggest obstacle to the Noah Objective. An attack on their embassy would all but guarantee their support."

Jamie was stunned into silence. She'd known General Davies was a ruthless man, but to unleash that kind of madness on innocent people was unconscionable. A slow, burning anger began in the pit of her stomach. Davies was going to pay for it, and for Chloe. Jamie would make sure of it. She opened her mouth to ask for any proof, any lead she could follow to the man's demise, but Mitch had other ideas.

"Jamie said you could help us," he interjected. "We're looking for an island called Pangaea, possibly run by people that call themselves The Shepherds. Have you ever heard of them?" Now it was his turn to pull them back on track and Jamie forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

Robin leaned back in his seat and didn't say anything for a few moments. His eyes moved from Jamie to Mitch and back again, seemingly assessing each of them in turn. "I might have. I have a few people I can try, but I don't carry their information on me. It's at my house."

"Great," Mitch scooted toward Jamie immediately. "Let's go."

"Not you," Robin pointed his finger at Mitch, then at Jamie. "Just her."

"Absolutely not." Mitch's tone left no room for argument, no compromise.

But Jamie knew this was their only chance. If they didn't get this information then the rest of the team could be in danger. Mitch had been right before; there was no telling how much Robert Oz had actually shared with his son. The more information they had, the better their chances. "Okay."

"Okay?" Mitch barked. "It's not okay. You can't just go off with someone you've never met!"

"I'll give you two a minute," Robin stood and tucked his tablet into a messenger bag. As he slung it across his shoulders he added, "I'm leaving in two minutes either way. Blue Prius parked on the side of the building."

Jamie stood as he walked away, turning to face Mitch. He came to his feet just behind her, every muscle in his body tensed in frustration. She cut him off before he could begin one of his tirades. "Listen, it's not an ideal situation, but when has anything ever gone the way we planned it? This is our only lead."

"But you don't even know this guy," Mitch argued.

"Believe me," Jamie laughed mirthlessly, "I don't want to go. The last time I trusted someone I just met, he ended up betraying all of us to Davies. It's taking pretty much all of my willpower not to let him drive away. But if I do that we have nothing." She could see he was still unconvinced. His eyes were planted firmly on the far wall, his gaze over her head as he processed her logic. He knew she was right - he just didn't like it.

"Check in at regular intervals."

"Yes, sir." She mock saluted, unfazed by the glare he leveled at her. "Seriously, Mitch, it'll be fine. Why don't you work on getting us to Chile in one piece?" She raised herself up on her toes and kissed him quickly but warmly. She could feel the tension in him, and when she pulled back he gripped her hand fiercely.

"Be careful."

"I will," she promised. "I'll call you soon."

She turned and walked away before she could talk herself out of it. Robin was waiting with the car already in gear, and the moment she closed the door he backed out of the space and maneuvered toward the street.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Robin began. "My friends and I followed your work against Reiden pretty closely. Those bastards deserved to burn, and instead they get a federal pardon and a government contract."

Jamie really didn't want to talk about it, especially with someone she didn't really know, but alienating Robin now would only hurt her mission. She forced herself to stay friendly as she agreed.

"I've been reading your work for years as well," she added. "The science always went over my head, but I read every article you posted."

Robin laughed at that, a rich sound that reminded her of her uncle. "I suspect Doctor Morgan has helped with that," he shot her a half-smile without taking his eyes off the road. "I did some research on him when the IADG announced he was their lead scientist for the cure. His work was largely discredited, and I wondered why they had chosen him for the project."

Jamie bristled at the implication. "He helped me with my initial work in L.A. when the lions escaped the zoo. He was a part of the original team that had been assembled, before the IADG grew to what it is now. He'd already done all of the groundwork for the cure. It wouldn't have made sense to bring in a new scientist when Mitch had already developed the majority of the work."

"There were rumors circulating that they were thinking about replacing him after the plane crash."

Jamie turned slightly in her seat to level a glare at him. "Why the sudden interest in Mitch?"

"I don't trust him," Robin admitted. "Occupational hazard. I was just wondering how much you did."

"I trust Mitch with my life," Jamie answered quickly.

"I'm sorry if my questions offended you," Robin shook his head. "That's not my intention. I just...need to be sure before I can help you." He navigated the small car through the streets into a small subdivision. Jamie tried to keep up with the turns, but by the time they pulled into the driveway on Copper Lane she was a bit lost.

"Welcome to my home." He pressed a button on his key fob and opened the garage, parking the Prius neatly in the center of the space. He closed the outside door with the same button and gestured for Jamie to follow.

It wasn't anything like she'd expected. Jamie had always pictured Robin sitting in a small apartment surrounded by computer screens, monitoring global news for anything noteworthy and blogging in a dark room.

The lower floor was well lit by the sun shining through the gossamer curtains on the picture window of the dining room. Jamie caught a glimpse of a granite counter-topped kitchen and stainless steel appliances as they breezed past the kitchen toward the stairs. The hallway that ran the length of the house ended with the front door, locked tight with two deadbolts and a chain. On the right was a sitting room with several televisions mounted on the wall. On the left, a set of carpeted stairs led to the upper floor.

Every door on the second level was closed, except for the bathroom. Robin opened the first one they came to, and Jamie stifled a smile. A large, half-moon desk sat almost in the center of the room, topped by five computer monitors. Two towers sat on the floor on either side, identical save for the color of the light that glowed from within. Robin pulled his laptop from his back and hooked it up to the network, connecting it to the center screen.

"I don't have another chair in here," he offered by way of an apology. "But you can have this one in a minute. I just need to start the call."

"Who are you calling?"

"My friend," he told her. "He can explain it all."

Jamie was getting more nervous by the minute, but leaving now would be impossible. She could call Mitch, but she wasn't sure where she was or how to get to him. Her paranoia ratcheted up a notch, and Robin seemed to sense her discomfort.

"It's alright, Jamie. No one's going to hurt you." He glanced down at her hands, and Jamie realized one was already clutching her phone in her pocket. "You can call Doctor Morgan while I get this set up. Shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes."

Jamie stepped out into the hall and hit the number connected to Mitch's speed dial. He picked up before the first ring faded. "Jamie?"

"Yeah, I'm here. We just got to Robin's house."

"Where are you?"

"Uh...about twenty minutes from the coffee shop," she said. "There were a lot of turns, but I think the street name is Copper Lane?"

She could practically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Alright, are you safe?"

"Yeah." Jamie was surprised at the speed of her answer; just moments ago she'd wondered the same thing. "Robin wants me to talk to his friend. Hopefully he has some answers about the Shepherds."

"Well, I'm still working on getting us to Chile, but it's not going to be easy. Worse comes to worse, I'll have to ask Allison."

Jamie didn't like that idea, but they didn't have a lot of options. She knew Mitch already knew that, so she didn't say so. "Okay. I'll call you when I know more. I love you."

"Love you, too. Be safe." He disconnected first, and Jamie tucked her phone back into her pocket feeling a little better.

"Jamie?" Robin called from his office, and Jamie took a few steadying breaths before stepping inside.

A sharp-featured man with a hooked nose and dark, piercing eyes stared at her from the computer screen. Robin had vacated his seat, turning it invitingly for Jamie as he made introductions.

"Jamie, this is Bruce. Bruce, Jamie Campbell."

Jamie bit down on a Batman joke, silently cursed Mitch for his obviously bad influence, and smiled politely. "Hello."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Jamie," Bruce inclined his head briefly. "We've been following you for quite some time."

"Yes, that's what he said." Jamie shifted in the plush chair, making sure to stay on the edge and not sink back into the soft leather. "He also said you could provide information about Pangaea and the Shepherds."

Bruce steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. "What do you want to know?"

"Who they are," Jamie began. "Why they exist. Where Pangaea is." She knew, of course, but the first rule of information gathering was not letting them know how much you already knew. She'd learned a lot by playing dumb.

"We can help you with two of those," Bruce said cryptically. "But the location of Pangaea is still a secret we have yet to uncover."

Jamie thought about the string of numbers on Mitch's phone, coordinates that would lead them - anyone - right to the Shepherds front door. Something about Bruce's intense stare unnerved her, so she kept the information to herself for now.

"So who are they?" she asked instead.

Bruce sat back in his chair and let his folded hands fall to his lap. He smiled, though Jamie felt no warmth from it. "The Shepherds are a group that began in the mid-nineteenth century, at the end of the first Industrial Revolution. Iron production processes, chemical manufacturing, steam engines - the innovations grew so rapidly the world had a difficult time keeping up. A small group became concerned that with the development of these new technologies the earth would begin to suffer, that one day human progress would be the undoing of this planet. They began monitor and tracking potential threats to the natural order of things. When the mutation popped up, they were the first to begin to find a way to counteract it."

"I still don't understand their role in all of this," Jamie shook her head. "How could a group monitor the entire planet in the eighteenth century?"

"That part is still a mystery, Miss Campbell. The Shepherds have always had technology that baffles the mind. Did you know there are rumors that they began genetic tampering as early as 1895? We didn't even have a great grasp on it until the mid-1900's!"

"Yeah, we'd heard that," Jamie admitted. "Do you know how?"

"We do not."

"You keep saying 'we,'" Jamie glanced up at Robin briefly, the question in her eyes.

Bruce gave her that smile again, the one that grated. "We are part of an...Initiative," Bruce began, "who are intent on preserving the natural world. We, like the Shepherds, see our industrial progress for what it is - the destruction of nature."

"So you're what? Radical environmentalists?"

Bruce scoffed. "That term is so...clumsy. We at the Initiative see ourselves as stewards of the natural world. It is our job to safeguard it."

"How does that make you different from the Shepherds?"

"The difference, my dear, is all the difference. The Shepherds have perverted their mission, have decided to play God. We try to slow the pollution of man - the Shepherds want to eradicate it. They now work against the natural order of the world." He paused - probably for dramatic effect, Jamie guessed. "But, at the moment, our causes are one and the same: to stop Reiden and the IADG from launching the Noah Objective. Which is where you come in."

"Me?"

"Yes. As we speak, the repository for the clean DNA is being shipped from a secure facility in D.C. to its final destination. We have tried and failed three times to retrieve it. But I believe with your cleverness, Doctor Morgan's intellect, and our resources we will be successful this time."

Jamie jerked in her seat. "You want _us_ to steal the DNA?"

"This is our last chance to stop the Noah Objective. The countdown is currently sitting at forty hours. But without their clean DNA, Davies will have to stop the launch completely."

"And if I... _we_ ," she amended quickly. "If we can't help you. Then what?"

"It's not a question of ability, Miss Campbell. Only will. Either you agree to help us, in which case we give you access to a safe house, all of our plans, schematics of the base and all of the various resources at our disposal. Or you don't, and Robin takes you back to where he found you and you can watch the world end along with the rest of us." He leaned forward slightly in his chair, his dark eyes piercing through her. "I would think that after all of this time, all of the work you have done, the pain and hardship you have endured...I can't imagine anyone in your position not seizing the opportunity to end it once and for all."

Jamie stared dumbfoundedly for a moment as the enormity of his words sunk in. "I need to talk to Mitch. I can't make this decision on my own."

"Fair enough." Bruce opened his hands in a gesture of acceptance. "I will await your answer." He reached forward and his image winked out.

Next to her, Robin shifted. "I'll leave you for a moment. Would you like some tea? A bottle of water, perhaps?"

"No, thank you." Jamie waited until he had left before pulling her phone out. Mitch answered on the second ring this time, and Jamie relayed everything to him in a matter of minutes.

"Why does it feel like everytime we hit a roadblock, things just get weirder and weirder?" he grumbled. "Now we're part of a heist?"

"No," Jamie swiveled absently in the chair, one foot tucked under her and the other rocking back and forth on the floor. "Not yet, anyway. I wanted to talk to you, see what you think."

"I think it's insane," he told her honestly. "I also think we're stranded here. There are no flights in or out of the city. The nearest airport flying to Chile is O'Hare, and unless you've got a car stashed away in D.C. somewhere, we're stuck."

"So there's no way to rejoin the others." Jamie felt her heart drop. After everything, she was going to miss the final leg of the journey. They'd come so far from two lions in L.A., and it felt wrong to sit on the sidelines while Jackson and the others worked toward the cure.

"What do you want to do?" Mitch asked.

"I...I know I don't want to do nothing. Sitting here, waiting for the end -" She didn't have to finish her sentence; Mitch could likely hear the disgust in her tone.

"So you want to do it. Steal the clean DNA?"

Jamie chewed her lip thoughtfully, weighing all of the outcomes. Worst case scenario, they were caught and killed trying to stop the Noah Objective. Best case, they prevent the end of the world. She didn't mind those odds so much. "Yeah, I want to do it."

"What the hell?" he answered. "We got nothing better to do."

Robin was delighted to hear the news. He called Bruce immediately and told him, earning Jamie another round of joyous smiles and gratitude. He signed off with a firm wish for them to be careful and a "good luck." Jamie hoped they had more than that.

Robin assured her they did. He gave her a burner phone and had her call Mitch with the address to a safe house. Once she hung up he ushered her back downstairs and into the Prius, his entire demeanor much more open and friendly now that he had their support. On the drive over, he chatted her to amicably about their first attempts to steal the DNA, first from the secure facility where it was created, then during transport, then again from where they had stored it at Fort Knox. Jamie was impressed with that last one - attempting to steal anything from Fort Knox was akin to suicide. Or at the very least, imprisonment for life.

"It was worth it," Robin told her. "Every one of the men on that mission knew the risks and chose to go anyway. For the fate of the world, who wouldn't?"

 _Who wouldn't indeed_ , Jamie thought. She'd had the same thought before, knowing her life was inconsequential when faced with the extinction of the species. The young, idealistic girl that had repeatedly taken on a corporate giant day after day was proud of her decision. The cynical woman who'd done what she had to in order to survive the harsh reality of the world now was screaming at her to abandon the plan, grab Mitch and hide away from the chaos that was about to erupt. She silenced the second voice with some effort, focusing on what Robin was saying about their target.

"It's a crate, large enough to hold DNA samples of every animal on the planet. The plan of attack is on a tablet at the safe house, but I can tell you it involves taking out the team after they load it into the truck. With the distraction we'll provide, you should have plenty of time to drive it off the base and to a predetermined location where it will be destroyed. With the DNA gone, and no other source of viable samples, they'll have no choice but to cancel the launch."

"You make it sound so easy," Jamie shook her head. "That thing will be guarded. Heavily guarded."

"That's where I come in," Robin smiled at her. "I'm your distraction." He turned onto a residential street and indicated the third house on the left. "Here we are. Doctor Morgan is meeting you here?"

"He said he'd grab a ride from the 'urban transport thugs.'"

"Good, then he should be here soon. I'll pick you both up tomorrow at noon. Our intel says the package is being moved at three o'clock. That should give us enough time to go over the plan one more time before we make our way to the base." He held out a small envelope. "Here's the key to the house. There are burner cells and secure laptops inside. Don't use your personal ones. We don't know if Davies is tracking your movements. I'll see you tomorrow."

He didn't stick around. The moment she shut the door, he backed out of the driveway and sped off down the street. Jamie stood there for a moment, taking in her surroundings. They appeared to be nothing more than a quiet neighborhood with tall trees and lush, green grass. She wondered how many of the houses on this street still had people living in them, and how many had been abandoned in the wake of the apocalypse that had gripped the nation. Did any of them contain the bodies of their former occupants, too slow in escape and victims of the rampage of animals that had seemingly swept over the city months ago? Were there any animals still sheltered within, waiting for their next victim?

Jamie shook off the questions and hurried for the door. She locked it behind her once inside, silently hoping Mitch wasn't too far away. She didn't much like being alone anymore, and his presence would go a long way toward banishing the cold that was creeping in her mind. She busied herself with a quick tour of the house. It was a simple, one story home with three bedrooms, two baths, and a small backyard. The grass out back had been overgrown with weeds, which made the neat, well-manicured front lawn something of a mystery. The kitchen was stocked with non-perishable items, and Jamie was suddenly reminded she hadn't eaten anything since that morning. Her stomach rumbled at the prospect of food, but she just grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and decided to wait for Mitch.

She didn't have to wait long. Ten minutes after she'd settled on the couch with one of the tablets left there, a knock broke the silence. She crept to the door and peered through the peephole, sighing in relief at the sight of his familiar form on the other side. She yanked the door open and grabbed him in a hug, and they stumbled back into the foyer with his arms still around her.

"Miss me?" he joked quietly, but the tight band of his arms around her told her he'd been just as worried for her.

"Well, I did leave you unsupervised. There's no telling what you could have gotten up to."

Mitch let her go and glanced around the house briefly before returning her teasing smile with one of his own. "Not much," he shrugged. "At least, not as much as you. I leave you alone for thirty minutes and suddenly we're conscripted into a heist."

"Not just any heist," she shot back.

"Right, how could I forget?" He followed her into the sitting area just off and to the right of the door. "We've skipped bank jobs and art galleries and went straight for military strongbox."

Jamie sat down on the couch and grabbed the tablet she'd discarded moments ago. "I know this is dangerous, and you have your daughter to think about. If you don't want to do this..." she looked up at him earnestly, searching for any sign of hesitation in him. They could lose everything - their freedom, their lives - and she wouldn't go through with it if he wasn't completely on board.

He seemed to understand what she was looking for, and as he sank down next to her he plucked the device from her hands. It clattered as he tossed it a little less than gently onto the formica coffee table. He replaced it with his own hands, and Jamie felt the warmth from his fingers seeping into her skin like the first rays of sunlight on a frozen pond.

"I didn't agree to this because you asked me," he said. "Okay, not _only_ because you asked me," he amended at her pointed look. "I agreed because it's the right thing to do. You and I - and apparently everyone else except Davies and his goons - know that the Noah Objective is a monumentally, colossal, stupid, horrible idea. It's effectively the end of the human race. We have to stop it, no matter the cost. Clem -" Jamie watched his throat catch on his daughter's name, then dip as he swallowed thickly and tried again. She gripped his hands more firmly, as though she could will some of her strength into him. "Clem has her mom and Justin and Henry. She'll be fine. If my choices are die with you trying to do the right thing, or live with that regret hanging over me for the rest of my life, then there's no choice at all."

And just like that, Jamie fell in love with him all over again.

"Besides," he added with a roguish grin, "I can't let you have all the glory if this thing actually works."

Jamie shoved his shoulder so hard he almost fell off the couch, but they were both grinning as he righted himself. "Here," she grabbed the tablet and thumbed it on. "I didn't get very far before you arrived, but it's all on here."

They studied the plan for almost an hour until their stomachs growled loudly. Mitch glanced up at the clock and stretched. It was nearing seven and the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows through the picture window.

"Is there any food in this place?"

"Oh, yeah." Jamie stood and started for the kitchen. "It's mostly canned goods and water, but I'm sure we can find something."

Mitch uncovered several jars in the freezer that turned out to be frozen pasta sauce. Jamie found a box of pasta to go with it, and in less than thirty minutes they returned to the couch laden with plates of spaghetti and drinks. Mitch found a remote for the television and clicked it on.

"You think there's anything on other than news?" Jamie wondered.

"Let's find out." He flipped through the channels quickly, thirteen in all, until it started over. "Looks like local only." He found an old black and white movie, turned the volume up a bit, and tucked into his meal.

"Never pegged you as the Turner Classic Movie type."

"I don't really watch TV," he spoke around the bite he'd already taken. "Between the zoo and classes, I didn't really have much free time."

"Well, it's better than the news, anyway." She settled back into the cushions with her dinner and let her mind focus on the movie. If she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend that this was real, that none of the fifteen months had happened and that she and Mitch were simply enjoying a quiet evening together.

Would they have ever met, she wondered, if the mutation hadn't occurred? Los Angeles was, by anyone's standards, a huge city teeming with millions of people. The odds of her simply running into him on the street were astronomical. Her aunt had always believed in the concept of soulmates, but Jamie had never been sold on it. The idea that some preordained destiny had any say in her life didn't sit well with her. But the more she thought about it the more she realized that had any one thing in her life happened differently, she might not have ever met Mitch at all. If her mom hadn't died, if she'd given up her fight against Reiden when everyone else had told her to let it go, if she had taken the job at the Times instead of the Telegraph, if she had taken Ethan up on his offer of a reset...and that wasn't even considering everything that had happened in his life that put him at the L.A. Zoo at precisely the right moment. It gave her a headache to think about the possibilities.

"Earth to Jamie."

She blinked and realized too late that her eyes had been focusing, not on the television, but on a spot somewhere down and to the left. "Sorry," she set her half-eaten dinner down on the coffee table. "I was just...what's up?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted seconds, but it looks like you're not done with firsts." He set his empty plate next to hers. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"What ifs," she explained vaguely.

"You'll drive yourself crazy."

"I know, but I can't help it. Writer's brain." She sank back into the plush sofa and tried to focus on the movie, but her mind was keyed up. Mitch seemed to sense her restlessness and switched the TV off.

"Okay, let's have it."

"Have what?"

"Whatever it is that's got you sighing every five seconds." He turned and tucked one leg under him, resting his back against the arm of the couch as he laid one arm along the top.

Jamie chewed her lip thoughtfully, wondering how she should start. Finally she decided on blurting it out and dealing with the aftermath later. "Do you believe in fate?"

The question didn't surprise him as much as she thought it would. "No," he answered simply. "No, I think _some_ things happen by chance, but ultimately the choices we make determine what happens in our lives. For instance, it was chance that I was working that morning instead of Doctor Bohner, so when you called the zoo looking for a vet it was me who met you instead of him. But it was my choice to ask you to lunch afterward. It was my choice to go looking for cats in Brentwood, my choice to ask you to get a drink after class the next day, or to go to Louisiana with you. I _guess_ you could call it fate, but I don't really believe there's some mystical force that sets things into motion. Other than, you know, the _actual_ forces that set things into motion, but that's just basic physics and -"

"Mitch?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." She pushed herself up and over to him in a fluid motion, settling against his body solid and warm as she kissed him. He responded easily, raising one hand to thread through her hair as her arms snaked over his shoulders. He shifted enough to take her weight, allowing her to lay along his body as he stretched his legs out under her. His lips were eager against hers but slow, letting her set the pace.

Their dinner lay forgotten as they made out on the couch. Jamie had a brief nostalgic flashback to her teenage years and getting caught in much the same position at her boyfriend's house. She'd gone there after school to study, but teenage hormones being what they were, the textbooks had never made it out of their backpacks. At the time, she'd thought nothing of his frenzied hurry, or the rough, inexperienced press of his hands at her waist. His kisses had grown more insistent as he not-so-subtly hinted at his intentions. They were interrupted by the front door opening rather suddenly, and Jamie ended up on the floor as he scrambled in his panic.

His parents had been stern but understanding; Uncle Bo, not so much. He'd railed at her for nearly two hours about propriety and decency, about respecting herself and her body. She'd sat in stoic silence, hearing the lecture but not accepting it. She had known full well what she was doing, she'd told him once his ire had finally died down. She wouldn't have let it go too far. He'd called her naive and young before banishing her to her room. He'd been right.

But she was older now, wiser and more knowledgeable in both the ways of the world and her own pleasure. And Mitch was no Tommy Baker. She hummed in appreciation as his hand slid beneath the hem of her shirt. His fingers were warm on her skin, skimming along the curve of her back but traveling no further. Jamie made a sound that was halfway between a moan and a whine, and she felt Mitch's chest hitch with laughter beneath her.

"Did you find a bedroom on your tour earlier?" he murmured against her lips. "Not that this doesn't work for me." He let both of his hands drift to her hips, pulling her further into his body to demonstrate just how _well_ this was working for him.

Jamie let her head fall to his shoulder at the contact, her breath escaping her in a quiet gasp. When she found her voice again, it was practically a growl. "Mitch." It was both a plea and a warning, and he answered earnestly.

They found the bedroom eventually.

The sun was just rising when they emerged freshly showered and dressed in sweats and matching black t-shirts. They had been surprised to find the closet and dresser stocked with clothes of all sizes, though it was abundantly clear someone had bought them in bulk from a box store.

"I'll clean up dinner," Jamie offered. "See if there's a laundry room somewhere."

Twenty minutes later the dishes were clean and their clothes were cycling through the washer. Jamie grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and joined Mitch back on the couch. He was focused on the tablet, perusing the plan again to make sure he understood it, and he accepted the bottle she offered without looking up.

"Are you scared?" It hadn't been what she meant to ask him, but his face was a mixture of intense concentration and a hint of worry. It unnerved her.

"We're breaking into a secure government facility to steal the one thing that's probably guarded more closely than the president." He swiped the screen with one finger, then glanced up at her. "Are you scared?"

"Terrified," she admitted. "But we have to do this."

"I agree." He handed the device off to her and stood. "I'm going to grab the laptop and call my mom. And Clem. I need to at least try to reach them before…" he trailed off hesitantly, but Jamie understood. Even if everything went perfectly, they would probably be fugitives for the rest of their lives. She had the sudden urge to hear her uncle's voice, and she reached for the burner phone on the table as Mitch disappeared back into the bedroom.

It was still early in Louisiana, but Bo and Fran Armstrong had been rising before the sun for decades. It didn't surprise Jamie at all to hear her aunt's voice answer the phone with a chipper greeting.

"Hello?"

"Hi Aunt Fran."

"Jamie? It's good to hear you, sweetie! Where are you?"

"I'm, uh, I'm not sure." She hated lying, but the less her family knew, the safer they would be. "I just wanted to call and check in. How are things?"

"Fine, fine," Fran told her. "Your uncle's outside mending a hole in the fence line. That pack of dogs that's roaming the area is getting bolder. Charlie's out there with him."

"Well, tell them to be careful. They don't want to get bitten."

"Oh, they know. Tucker's boy got bit last month and it got infected. Poor thing had to be taken to county and sedated, but the doc says he ain't never seen anything like it."

Jamie remembered Tucker Bradson from Reese's class. He'd always been a bit of a rebel but had mellowed out when his high school sweetheart had gotten pregnant with a little girl. He'd proposed right after graduation. Married life suited him, and Jamie had been a senior when he'd announced the arrival of his second child - a little boy named Matthew.

She'd seen firsthand what the mutation looked like in humans. Watching Jackson slowly deteriorate, knowing there was nothing she could do, was heartbreaking; she couldn't imagine watching a child suffer through it. Sedation was probably the best for him, though it wouldn't take long for his body to overcome its effect. Jamie didn't want to think about the options that would be left.

"How is Mitch?"

Fran's question pulled her out of her dark thoughts, and Jamie couldn't help the smile that stretched her face. "He's good. He's talking to his mom in California right now."

"He told me about her when he was here. She sounds delightful."

"She is," Jamie agreed. "I spoke to her a few days ago. She's in a safe zone in California."

"Jamie?" Fran's tone dropped a bit, the light, casual air falling away. "When is this all going to be over?"

"Soon, Aunt Fran. I promise." Jamie couldn't say more, not if it put her family and Mitch's in danger. But one way or another, it would all be over soon.

"And then you'll come home?"

Jamie's breath caught in her throat and she felt tears stinging her eyes. She could never go home again, and suddenly she wanted nothing more. But the fate of the world was at stake, and Jamie was prepared to make that sacrifice if it meant her nieces and nephews - kids like Tucker's son - got to grow up healthy and safe. "Yeah," she forced out, trying to sound as normal as possible. "Then I'll come home."

Fran's silence told her that she hadn't been fooled by Jamie's words. For a few seconds the only sound on the line was their breathing, and then Fran spoke. "I love you, Jamie. Please don't ever forget that."

"I won't, and I love you, too. So much. All of you. I never -" she choked back on a quiet sob. "I never did thank you and Uncle Bo for taking me in after Mom died. For being there when I needed you, even if I didn't think so."

"Oh honey," Fran was crying now, and Jamie didn't stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks, "you never have to thank us for that. We're family, and we love you so much. And we're _so_ proud of the strong, beautiful woman you've become. I know your mama is, too, sweet pea."

The endearment was one Jamie hadn't heard in a long time, and it slid warm and sure straight to her heart. This time she didn't bother hiding the sob that escaped her, bubbling out on top of a laugh that echoed in her ear. Through the line she heard a door open and close, and then the deep bass of her uncle's voice asking Fran why she was crying.

"Can I talk to Uncle Bo?"

"Sure, sure." There was a bit of static, then her uncle's voice, full and rich.

"Jamie?"

"Hi Uncle Bo."

"Why is your aunt crying? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jamie wiped her face dry with her free hand. "I just...we got a little sentimental, is all. How are you?"

"We're fine. Patched up the fence again. Damn dogs tore another hole."

"Listen," Jamie sniffed and cleared her throat to make sure her words were understood. "I need you and the family to stay inside for the next day or two. Can you do that?"

"Jamie, what's going on?"

"It's fine," she hurried to reassure him, "I just want to make sure. Promise me?"

"Sure, bug. We'll stay here. Does this have something to do with that countdown that's all over the news?"

"The Noah Objective, yes. Sort of. It won't hurt anyone - it's meant to kill the animals - but I don't want to take any chances." She couldn't tell the truth - that it would also take out millions of people. She didn't think her family had the ghost gene, but she couldn't take that chance. Being indoors wouldn't likely protect them from the gas if that was the case, but every little bit helped her peace of mind.

"We'll stay inside, Jamie. I promise."

"Okay. I'll call you in a few days to check in. I love you, Uncle Bo."

"Love you, too, bug. Bye."

Jamie waited until she heard the click on his end before setting the phone down. It was likely the last time she'd talk to her family, and she took a few moments to commit their last words to her to memory. Another sob rose in her throat, this one more violent and devastating, and she buried her face in her hands as she wept. Soft footsteps padded quickly across the carpet, and soon she was wrapped in a strong embrace. Mitch's own voice was thick as he comforted her, and she was reminded that he'd just said goodbye to his own mother moments ago.

"Shh," she felt his soft consolation rumble through his chest as she leaned into him, burying her face in his shirt as she continued to cry. He leaned back against the couch and brought her with him. She felt his lips press soft kisses into her hair, and she let herself relax in his arms as her grief washed over her.

She stayed there even after her tears had dried, drawing strength and solace from the man next to her. She could feel from the way he was clutching at her that he was doing the same, and she shifted slightly to slip her arms around his waist and squeeze.

"It's not too late to back out," he whispered. "We can get a flight to Louisiana and wait it out with your family."

It was tempting and selfish and Jamie almost said yes. But she couldn't. They'd come too far to quit now. She turned her head to press a kiss into his shoulder before sitting up.

"Let's go save the world."

Robin picked them up a few hours later, his dark clothing a match for the somber mood that settled over the trio. He waved silently as they exited the house, closing the door on what was likely their last moments of freedom. Jamie reached for Mitch's hand as they walked down the short sidewalk to the driveway.

"Hello," Robin greeted them as they slipped into the car. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Jamie answered curtly. "Are you?"

"I am."

As they drove across town, Jamie ran through the plan again out loud to make sure everyone was on the same page. Robin would drop them a block from the base, then provide a distraction that would allow them to breach the fence line. Once they were inside, they had to find the crate, follow it and take out the squad protecting it before it was driven off base. Jamie briefly wished Dariela were here; this was exactly the kind of op she excelled at.

Robin dropped them right where Jamie had seen on the map. He gave them a duffel from the trunk that held two loaded tranq rifles. Jamie appreciated the non-lethal option.

"Good luck," Robin saluted them with a quick touch of his finger to his brow before driving away. Jamie took one more deep breath, nodded at Mitch, and set off toward the base.

The first part of the plan went off like clockwork. With Robin's distraction at the front gate, Jamie and Mitch made it past a chain link fence with no resistance. Mitch pulled the weapons out and tossed the bag aside. Jamie accepted one of them and spent the walk to the building growing accustomed to the feel of it in her hand. They kept to the back corridors and shadows as much as possible, but it wasn't really necessary. The place was almost deserted.

A steady rumble of wheels on concrete caught her attention, and she nodded toward the sound. Mitch took the lead, leaning just his head around the corner for a brief second to scope the area.

"Come on."

They followed the package through the halls, their footsteps careful but still audible. Jamie winced as she rounded a corner too fast and hit the butt of her rifle into the concrete. The noise echoed down the hall, and for a moment they both froze. If they were caught now, this would have all been for nothing. But no one came running after them, and Jamie let out a soft sigh of relief.

Another corner brought the sound of an engine and she realized they were at the end of the line. The next few minutes would determine everything, and she gripped the weapon in her hand just a little tighter as she readied herself.

Mitch took the first step, angling his body to maintain cover while raising his weapon. Jamie mirrored him, throwing herself to the other side of the hall to stay out of his line of fire. But no one attacked. Jamie looked at the prone bodies strewn on the floor in confusion.

"What the hell?" They took a few tentative steps forward, and Jamie wrinkled her nose. "What's that smell? It's like cotton candy."

Mitch grabbed for the handkerchief in his pocket frantically, shoving it at her. "Cover your mouth and nose," he ordered quickly. She did, and he tucked the collar of his unbuttoned top shirt over his face. "It's halothane. Knockout gas." They stepped carefully over the body of a soldier, then another. "Someone else is after the DNA."

They were careful but quick, moving toward the loading dock and the crate. It was half-loaded in the back of the truck, surrounded by the unconscious squad of men who were supposed to protect it.

"There it is," Jamie rushed forward. "Let's take it and go."

Movement from the front of the truck had her shuffling a step back, and Mitch leveled his weapon at the threat immediately. "Drop your weapon!" he yelled.

A man stepped forward slowly, his face covered by a military-issue gas mask. There was something familiar about him, and as he reached up to remove the mask Jamie gasped.

"Logan?"

"Hello Jamie."

It was impossible. She'd watched him fall from the plane, unable to pull his own chute. There was no way he could have survived, no way he could be standing here now. But there he was, just a hint of a smug smile playing around his lips. Jamie was immediately reminded of what he'd done, how his betrayal had hurt her. Mitch seemed to remember as well. Jamie jumped at the quiet hiss of a dart leaving his rifle, and Logan looked down in surprise at the bright feathered dart now sticking in his chest. It didn't seem to faze him, and Mitch fired again. And again. He ended up with four darts in him before he knocked on his vest.

"Dude, I'm wearing kevlar."

A speaker on a nearby wall crackled to life, and a warning about a security breach warbled from it. Jamie was done wasting time.

"Not on your face," she raised her own rifle, aiming directly at his slowly fading smirk. Mitch moved quickly around him, pulling the handgun from his side holster and holding it on him.

"Jamie, get in the truck."

She shouldered her rifle and ran to the crate. She leaned her full weight against it, straining to push it the last few feet into the back of the truck, but it wouldn't budge. "It's too heavy."

Logan still had his hands held out, but at Jamie's words his smile returned. "You're not getting out of here without my help."

Jamie caught Mitch's question the moment he glanced her direction. Wordlessly, she shrugged one shoulder. They could deal with Logan once they were free. Mitch didn't like it but they didn't have much of a choice. He dashed for the driver's seat as Logan stepped up next to her and helped her shove the crate into the back.

"How are you here?" Jamie asked quietly. "I watched you fall."

"Yeah," he grunted. "Out of the back of a plane. With a tranq dart in my chest. Thanks for that." The crate slid neatly into the cargo compartment as Mitch called a warning. "Lucky for me my altimeter deployed my chute." He reached back and shut the rear doors.

"You in?" Mitch called.

"Yeah!"

Jamie braced against the side of the truck as Mitch gunned the gas. From her vantage point she could see through the windshield, and for a brief moment she felt a thrill of excitement as they sped away with their stolen goods.

Sirens and screeching tires brought her joy to a halt along with the truck. Half a dozen armed soldiers exited the three trucks in front of them, along with General Davies himself.

"Freeze!" One of the soldiers shouted unnecessarily.

"Step out of the truck!" Davies ordered. "Step out of the truck now!"

Jamie saw Mitch reaching for the handle, but before she could protest he glanced over his shoulder. "I'm gonna buy us some time. Make it count." He shut the door behind him, but Davies was loud enough that she could hear his condescending tone through the doors as he identified Mitch.

"Only you would be arrogant enough to doom the entire planet by stealing that DNA just because your cure didn't work. Well I've got news for you. You failed. _Again_."

"Not yet," Mitch answered flatly, and through the window she could just barely make out his hand curled around something as he held them up. "We rigged up a little something in the back. My thumb comes off this button…I'd back up if I were you."

Mitch's bluff gave Jamie an idea. "You have any grenades?"

Logan looked appalled. "No, absolutely not. I need this DNA!"

"Why? So you can sell it? Do you even have a soul?"

"I don't need one after the check for this job clears."

Jamie hadn't expected anything more of him, but the fate of the world was more important than his bank account. "If Davies gets a hold of this DNA, it is over," she impressed. "We have to destroy it."

She left no room for argument. He stared at her for a few hard seconds before caving. "You're killing me right now." He pulled a grenade from his pocket and a piece of paracord, running it around the lever and twisting it round and round.

"What are you doing?" Jamie was vaguely aware of Davies and Mitch trading barbs outside the truck, but she could only watch as Logan fastened the string to the roof.

"According to you? The right thing. It's a little trick I learned from a guy." He kept spinning the grenade, winding the string tighter and tighter. "As the lace unwinds it slowly undoes the knot, which releases -"

"I don't care how it works," she cut him off. "Just tell me what it's gonna do."

"It's a delayed fuse."

"How much time do we have?"

"Twenty seconds."

"Take him," she heard Davies order, and she knew they were out of time.

"Twenty seconds?" she asked.

Logan pulled the pin and let go. "Nineteen now."

They burst from the back of the truck as the soldiers accompanying Davies opened the doors. Jamie held her hands up as they led her and Logan around to the front of the truck. Mitch looked at her apologetically.

"They called my bluff."

Jamie's steps quickened as her mental countdown hit one. "Wasn't a bluff!" It was all the warning he got, but it was enough. She felt him grab her and turn as the grenade detonated. The blast drove them forward, and a few unlucky soldiers were thrown to the ground. The truck was heavy enough to block any potentially deadly shrapnel, but there was no doubt that the DNA had been destroyed.

Mitch's stunned expression was amusing, but Davies' was wholly satisfying. He stared at the still-burning rear of the truck with a mixture of awe and horror on his face. "You just killed the Noah Objective."

"That was the idea, yeah," Jamie shot back.

His eyes flashed in anger, and for a brief second Jamie feared he would lash out and strike her. But the anger faded just as quickly as it had come, leaving only resigned failure in its wake. "Restrain them."

Their wrists were zip-tied tightly before three soldiers lined them up against the truck. Davies had the others extinguish the fire before pulling the wrecked remains of the crate from the back. There was no doubt that whatever had been inside was now thoroughly destroyed.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Davies demanded.

Mitch shuffled slightly next to her. "Pretty sure we just ruined your little genocide."

"You just destroyed humanity's last hope!"

Jamie raised her chin defiantly. "Now you have no choice but to try and cure the animals."

"Sir," a clean-shaven man with a name tag that read Mansdale approached. "What do you want to do with them?"

Davies pulled his phone from his pocket and looked down at it sadly. "Secure them for transport." He walked away and disappeared around a group of vehicles, no doubt to call in his failure and ask for direction.

They were left alone for a moment as Mansdale followed his commanding officer, and Jamie leaned in toward Mitch to keep her words from reaching their armed guards a few feet away. "I'm sorry, it was the only thing we could do." She hadn't wanted it to end like this - they would be tried as criminals and sent to prison, probably for the rest of their lives. It was very likely she'd never see him again, and suddenly the thought paralyzed her. Her head fell to his shoulder and she felt him shift slightly to press his lips into her hair.

"You did the right thing," he reassured her.

"They'll prosecute us for treason," she told him. "Your daughter -"

"The others will make sure she knows the truth. Your family, too." He sounded so sure that Jamie almost believed him.

Mansdale returned without Davies, and Jamie straightened up in confusion as he silently ordered the guards to lower their weapons.

"You and Davies have a nice cry?" Mitch asked snidely.

Mansdale pulled his handgun from his side holster, loaded a bullet into the chamber with a swift pull of the slide and leveled it at Mitch's head. "Shut up!"

Jamie felt her heart rate spike as adrenaline slammed into her system. Every muscle in her body screamed to throw herself forward, but fear and surprise kept her rooted. Next to her she saw Mitch tense, but his voice stayed calm as he stared the soldier down. "You gonna kill us?"

"I said shut up!" He moved again, lightning quick, but it wasn't Mitch who went down. With three clean shots, all the soldiers surrounding them were dead in as many seconds and Mansdale holstered his weapon.

Jamie recoiled violently, her mouth falling open in shock as she tried to process what just happened. "Oh my God."

But Mansdale was already reaching for his tac knife. He cut their bonds quickly and handed Mitch the keys to one of the trucks. "There's a car wash on the corner of Lincoln and 223rd Street. I'll meet you there. I'm taking you to your friends."

Logan found his voice first. "Who are you?

"Someone who wants to see the world back the way it was."

"What about Davies?" Jamie asked. "What about the Noah Objective?"

"I'll take care of it," Mansdale stepped back. "Now go before Davies comes back."

They didn't have to be told twice. Jamie could feel her body quivering with energy as Mitch pushed her gently toward the vehicle. Logan was close behind, and he slid into the backseat as Mitch took the wheel.

"What the hell is going on?" Jamie asked once they were safely off the base and on the road. Logan had a map of the city pulled up on his phone, but Mitch seemed to know where he was going.

"I don't know," he told her. "But right now, I'm not gonna question it."

"You think we can trust Mansdale?" Logan sounded like he'd already answered his own question.

"No," Mitch shook his head, "but it's not like we have much choice. If he can get us to Pangaea, then we have to take the chance."

"Pangaea?"

Jamie half-turned in her seat to answer him. "It's a secret island off the coast of Chile that's home to an old organization of protectors who have genetically engineered saber-toothed cats and are the only thing standing in the way of global catastrophe."

He stared back blankly for a moment before he scoffed. "If you don't want to tell me, fine. But don't insult my intelligence." Jamie just held his gaze, raising one eyebrow when he seemed to waver. "Seriously?"

"Yep," Mitch confirmed. "And we need to get there as soon as possible to synthesize the cure and figure out a way to disseminate it around the globe before this whole mess gets worse."

"Worse?" Logan shifted forward in his seat. "How can things get worse? We stopped the Noah Objective."

"Davies isn't a man who gives up easily," Jamie turned back around and braced an arm against the door as Mitch took a turn a little too fast. "He might not have a way to repopulate the earth with clean animals, but that doesn't mean we're out of the woods yet."

"You don't think he'll launch the gas anyway?"

"No," Mitch shook his head. "He's a lunatic, but he's a scientific lunatic. He knows that eradicating animals off the planet with no way to replace them would kill us all. I mean, I _think_ he knows it."

"But he's not the one who makes the final call," Jamie finished his thought. "Whoever's in charge? The governments of the world? They're getting desperate and angry, and that makes people make rash decisions."

It was as much of an apology as Logan was likely to get for being shoved out of a plane. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him nod once. Message received.

Mansdale met them ten minutes later in a less descript vehicle. Jamie climbed into the back with Mitch, leaving the front for Logan. She felt a bone-deep exhaustion creeping over her as she sagged into the plush seats of the sedan. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, leaving her muscles aching and her mind a jumble of thoughts. She reached for Mitch's hand as they turned on Lincoln and sped away from the city. He was warm beneath her palm, and with just a little adjustment she was close enough to lay her head on his shoulder. She felt him squeeze her hand gently as her eyes slipped closed, the quiet conversation of Mansdale and Logan in the front seat lulling her to sleep.

"We're here." Mitch's quiet voice woke her, and she blinked blearily as she raised her head. They were parked on a private runway in front of a small jet plane. It was by no means the deluxe airliner she'd called home the last few weeks, and as they walked across the tarmac Jamie felt a flutter of nervousness in her stomach.

"Who's the pilot?" Logan asked as Mansdale yanked the door open and dropped the small staircase.

"I am," he said simply. "Come on."

They were airborne in a matter of minutes. Logan had offered to co-pilot, leaving Jamie and Mitch sitting in the small passenger compartment alone. The seats were nice, a soft leather that was worn around the edges, and there were small television screens at the front and rear of the cabin.

"There are drinks and snacks in the mini-fridge in the back," Mansdale's voice came over the intercom. "Help yourself."

Mitch was on his feet at the word "mini-fridge," and Jamie just nodded when he offered to grab something for her. He returned with a soda, a bottle of water, two bags of chips and a frown.

"I was hoping for something a little stronger," he told her as he held out the soda and the water for her to choose.

She took the water, unscrewed the cap and down half the contents. "We'll celebrate properly when this is all over."

"Last leg of the journey," he reminded her. "You still have your phone on you? We should probably call Jackson and the others and let them know we're on our way."

"Good idea."

She tried a few times but couldn't get through. A quick trip to the cockpit told her why.

"I have a cell phone jammer active," Mansdale indicated a small red light near the bottom of the console. "We don't want anyone following us. I've already contacted the island. They know we're coming."

"How long until we get to Pangaea?"

"Less than five hours. You and Doctor Morgan should grab a nap. I imagine there will be a lot of work to do when we arrive."

They took his advice to heart, only waking when the plane shuddered violently on their descent. At the unexpected turbulence, Mitch jerked awake and gripped her hand so hard she grimaced and tried to pull away. He wasn't quite awake - his eyes were wild and unfocused - and he tugged her toward him almost instinctively. One blink, then two, and the fog lifted. He looked around as if expecting something wholly different, and it was a few more seconds before he relaxed enough to let her go.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," he ran his fingers through his hair absently. "Fine."

Jamie recognized the after effects of a nightmare and realized what had probably happened. The tremors had been too close to those that had preceded the plane crash last year, and she knew from reading Chloe's letters that Mitch had harbored a lot of guilt over Jamie's supposed death. Hoping to reassure him, she slipped her hand back into his and let it steady him as they landed on the small airstrip amid the vast green of the forest island.

Their larger plane was sitting in the middle of the tarmac with the vehicle bay doors lowered and open. Jamie felt a sense of homecoming as they stepped through the door, and she could see the same relieved contentment settle over Mitch as they entered the lab. They heard a voice that had to be Robert Oz speaking from somewhere near the back.

"Why Doctor Morgan made the protocol so complicated is beyond me. I know a simpler way to prep the DNA from the saber-tooth."

"Please don't do that," Mitch stepped around the shelves first, followed by Jamie. "It took me hours of trial and error to get that protocol right."

Jackson was standing just behind his father near the wall, but at their arrival he smiled and crossed over to them.

"About time you guys got here," he greeted. "Come here." He reached for Jamie first, and she threw her arms around him easily. He looked good, not crazy, and for a moment Jamie wondered if they'd already administered the cure. Then she remembered his father's words and guessed they were still a few hours away.

Jackson pulled away from her and moved to Mitch, slapping the other man on the back in a brotherly gesture. Footsteps behind them announced Mansdale's arrival, along with their unexpected passenger.

"Logan." Jackson sounded wary, and Jamie didn't blame him. She hadn't wanted to bring him either, but getting rid of him now would be harder than it had been the first time.

"You brought one of Davies' men here?" Robert Oz seemed to be addressing Mansdale and Jamie wondered how long they'd known each other. Had Robert Oz been with the Shepherds this whole time? Had he been planted in Davies' circle to keep an eye on him, or to sabotage him? The possibilities made her head spin, and she chose to push all of those thoughts out as Logan tried to diffuse the tension with a joke.

"Considering we just destroyed the Noah Objective's supply of clean DNA, I'm pretty sure I'm off Davies' Christmas card list."

Jackson looked at his friends in alarm. "You did what?"

"It's gone," Jamie confirmed. "We blew it up. No clean DNA, no Noah Objective."

"That's unbelievable."

Mitch scoffed and crossed his arms. "Well, what's unbelievable is we intercepted him trying to steal it," he said.

Logan just shrugged. "Nobody's perfect."

But Robert Oz wasn't impressed. "He's a liability."

Logan suddenly realized what he was implying and he looked at Jamie imploringly. "Oh, don't look at me," she said sharply. "I don't even know your real name. Frankly, I don't care." She tossed her hands up, abandoning him to his fate with the simple gesture as she walked away. "Do what you want with him."

"Jamie!"

She ignored his pleas and made her way toward the work table as Robert Oz ordered Mansdale to keep Logan away from the compound. She wondered again what kind of pull the older man had when the soldier responded with a sharp affirmation and escorted Logan off the plane.

"Doctor Morgan," Robert Oz approached them with an outstretched hand. "It's an honor. The work you've done here is exemplary."

"Thanks," he shook Oz's hand quickly. "Looks like you've been busy."

"Yes, but now the real work can begin."

Jamie had a sense things were about to go way beyond her rudimentary understanding of their work and the cure, so she quietly excused herself with a promise to return with food for all of them. It took her almost fifteen minutes to make the sandwiches, hunt down the chips she and Mitch had purchased (was that only a few days ago?) and balance it all steadily enough to make her way back to the lab.

She heard Mitch before she even made the lab proper, his voice tight with barely restrained frustration. "No more medication until we figure this out."

Robert's voice was too quiet for Jamie to make out his words, but Jackson's answer to them was clear. "I can handle it."

"But can we handle you?"

Jamie set the food on a table near the stairs, far from any of the chemicals and compounds they were working with. Robert muttered something else and stalked away. Jackson followed him shortly after.

"Well, who's gonna eat all this now?" Jamie announced.

Mitch turned at her voice and she smiled as his dark mood lifted a bit. "Me," he said brightly.

"By yourself?"

"Of course not. You're going to help." He grabbed a sandwich and took a large bite, swallowed it almost too fast, then took another. "These are good."

"I'll pass your compliments to the chef." Jamie tucked into her own sandwich thoughtfully before gesturing vaguely to where Robert and Jackson had just disappeared. "What was all that about?"

"Jackson's father - in his infinite wisdom - had been dosing his son with medication to stave off the worst effects of the mutation. It interfered with the serum, so we have to wait for it to clear his system before we try again."

"How long will that take?"

"About thirty-six hours, he guesses, but I think Jackson's system is going to burn through it faster than that."

It turned out to be a lot faster. Jackson was pacing the upper level of the lab and muttering to himself when Jamie found him an hour later. She handed him the only sandwich she'd managed to save from Mitch's hunger and he accepted it gratefully.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like my skin is crawling," he said. "It's gonna get a lot worse before this is all over."

"Your dad and Mitch are going to figure this out," she rubbed his arm comfortingly, frowning at the heat pouring off of him even through his thin cotton shirt. "You're burning up."

"It's the mutation," he nodded his head in a single, decisive jerk. "I can feel it creeping over me like a vine, threatening to strangle me."

"Morbid, but nice imagery."

"Thought you might appreciate that." He finished the sandwich and wiped his hands on his jeans. "We're almost done."

"Yeah," Jamie tucked her hands into her pockets. "We are. Have you given any thought to what you want to do after?"

"You mean if I'm not dead?" Jackson laughed humorlessly. "I have no idea. You?"

"I'm going back to Louisiana for a while. After that? I don't know either. The world...it isn't what it used to be."

"No," he agreed. "But maybe we can help make it better."

It sounded wonderfully idealistic, and Jamie smiled at the small reminder of the eager, vibrant young man she'd met in a board room early last summer. "Well, whatever happens in the next few days, I'm glad the universe threw us all together. You're good people, Jackson Oz."

She pulled her hands from her pockets and slipped them around his slender frame. He hugged her a little more tightly than before, and she felt the tension in his shoulders as she rubbed his back.

"Let me know if you need anything," she stepped back and squeezed his arm once before letting it fall away.

"I will," he promised. Just as she reached the threshold of the corridor he called her name and she turned. "You're good people, too, Jamie. I'm glad you and Mitch found each other."

Jamie had nothing to say in answer that wouldn't cause her, him, or both of them to break down in tears. She wished more than ever that Chloe could have been here, and she could see in Jackson's fevered gaze that he was thinking the same thing. Jamie offered him one more reassuring smile before slipping down the hall to find something to occupy her time until the cure was ready.

That something turned out to be a journal entry. She hadn't written much since the letter she'd given Mitch, and a lot had happened since then. It took her almost an hour to get it all out, even with her faster-than-average typing speed.

"Anyone home?" Dariela's voice preceded her knock by a second, and Jamie saved her document as she called the for other woman to enter. "Whatcha working on?"

"Oh, just...collecting my thoughts," Jamie said. "What's up?"

"Just thought you should know Mitch is hooking up Jackson and his dad to some sort of machine. I think they're going to start making the cure."

"His dad?" Jamie stood up and stretched a little. "Why is Jackson's dad getting hooked up."

"Dunno," Dariela shrugged. "Science isn't my thing."

Jamie pushed past the shorter woman and toward the lab. They both stopped at the bottom of the central staircase where Mitch was messing with one of the monitors. Abe was bustling about behind them, obviously trying to help Mitch with whatever he needed.

"How you feeling?" Mitch glanced at Jackson.

"Peachy."

Abe came up on his other side and double checked the velcro straps holding him to the chair. "Make sure the straps are tight."

"I've seen a lot of improvised field medicine," Dariela said finally, "but this is something else."

"You know it's crazy enough it just might work," Robert glanced up at Mitch with a wry smile. "Wish I'd thought of it."

Mitch just double checked the screen behind his head that showed some sort of bar graph that Jamie couldn't make out. "We don't have to completely eliminate the badger acid from Jackson's system, just reduce it. If we can increase his blood volume with some genetically analogous whole blood cells…"

Jamie was pretty sure she caught most of that. "So Robert's providing a kind of genetic transfusion."

"Yeah, and we're only gonna get one shot at this," Mitch turned around expectantly. "So...everybody ready?"

Both Oz men nodded certainly, and Mitch only waited another moment more before pressing a button. The machine between them began humming and Jamie watched in fascination as the tube hanging between the men filled with a dark red liquid.

"How long will it take?" she asked.

"Thirty minutes should be long enough for Jackson's blood to be diluted enough to accept the serum."

So they waited. Jamie glanced at her watch compulsively, and as they entered the twenty-third minute the monitor began beeping ominously.

"What is that?"

"His blood pressure's rising," Mitch didn't glance up from the screen. "He's still within normal ranges." Another few moments passed, and Jackson tensed in his restraints as the beeping continued.

Robert glanced over his shoulder at Mitch. "What's happening?"

"He's hypertensive."

"Is his blood pressure still within range?"

"Barely. 190 over 130."

"I'm fine," Jackson hissed. "Keep going."

He didn't look fine. Sweat poured off of him, and his hands were clenched in fists beneath the wrist straps. Jamie shuffled closer instinctively as Abe offered words of support, but he didn't seem to hear them.

Something beeped, and the red indicator on the screen turned green. "Okay," Mitch sounded relieved. "Transfusion worked. The acid shouldn't interfere with the serum."

Jackson gave a cry, but it wasn't relief. It sounded pained, and Jamie gasped his name as his pupils dilated. A sickly black substance spidered through his veins and this time Jamie shuffled back.

"With the acid diluted, there's nothing holding the mutation back," Mitch had moved to the side table to grab his gloves. He caught Jamie's eye and nodded his head toward his workstation. "I need that serum."

She moved quickly to help him, drawing the thick substance into the syringe as Mitch urged her to hurry. When she handed it off he moved behind Jackson.

"I'm not gonna lie, buddy. This is gonna hurt."

"Just do it!" Jackson roared.

Mitch tilted his head forward with one hand and carefully inserted the needle into the base of Jackson's neck. Jackson jerked once, then twice, before relaxing bonelessly into his chair.

"Jackson?" Robert called.

"Hey," Mitch tapped Jackson's face lightly. "You still with us?"

His answer was sluggish. "That wasn't so bad."

"What is that?" Dariela was looking at the bag hanging empty on Jackson's right side - only now it wasn't so empty. A black, viscous fluid was dripping into the bag slowly, pulsing in time with Jackson's heartbeat.

Mitch snapped off his gloves with an air of resolution. "That...is our cure."

They'd done it. Jamie shared a smile with the others, but as Mitch stepped around her she reached out and laid a hand on his arm. He'd accomplished the impossible - saving the animals and the entire human race right along with them. She was proud of him and she tried to let him see it in her gaze. He returned her smile with a small one of his own, but there was something lurking beneath the triumph in his eyes that worried her. Whatever it was, it was clear he didn't want to talk about it right now.

"I would like a drink," he announced.

"I can stay and watch Jackson," Robert offered, unplugging his IV line. Jamie noticed he didn't remove the needle from his hand, probably in case Jackson needed another transfusion. She wasn't sure how much he could give before it became dangerous, but Mitch didn't seem too concerned so she guessed he was still okay.

"Great." Mitch was halfway up the stairs before the others caught up to him, and Jamie tucked her arm through his in a sideways hug.

"You did it, Professor."

"We did it," he amended. "I'll make sure to thank all of you in the paper I'm going to write on all of this."

Abe laughed loudly. "Given the things we've encountered the past fifteen months, it might read more like a science fiction novel than a scientific paper."

"You're right," Mitch frowned, then looked at Jamie. "Maybe _you_ should write it."

Jamie laughed with the others but didn't dismiss the idea outright. She'd never really entertained the thought of writing a book before; her focus had always been investigative journalism. But they'd been through so much, and the world deserved to know the truth of what had happened.

"Maybe I will," she agreed as they entered the bar. Mitch poured drinks for him, Jamie and Abe as Dariela grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge. Once everyone had a drink, Mitch held his glass up expectantly.

"What should we toast to?"

Abe was ready. "You."

"Me?"

"None of this would have been possible without you, Mitch. This victory is yours."

"To Mitch," Jamie declared before he could hedge his way out of the spotlight.

The others echoed her words and they all took a long drink. Jamie was glad to see Mitch had as well, though she could see the blush creeping up his neck. For a guy who was unashamed to proclaim his own intelligence, his embarrassment at receiving well-deserved recognition was an adorable contradiction.

"We still need a way to distribute the damn thing," Mitch grumbled.

"Oh, we've got one," Dariela smiled knowingly. "Jackson's dad showed us their aviary. They've got 40,000 birds ready to spread a very specialized strain of the avian flu around the world."

"That's…" Mitch trailed off thoughtfully, "...genius, actually. Kinda mad I didn't think of it."

Jamie wondered if he realized how similar his words were to Robert Oz's, then decided not to mention it. He'd had to work with the man to finish the cure, but he'd always made it quite clear just what he thought of the elder Oz.

"Right," she upended the rest of her drink, then set the empty glass on the bar. "I'm gonna grab a shower and a fresh change of clothes. How long will it take for Jackson to make the cure?"

"Not sure," Mitch shrugged. "Couple hours?"

"It will take some time to get the birds ready," Abe pointed out. "We're likely looking at a morning launch."

"Wonderful." Jamie pushed away from the countertop and left them to finish their drinks. "Call me when it's ready."

Between the time change and her nap on the flight down, she was wired. Mitch's off-hand comment about writing a book about their exploits had crept into her head and stuck, and she wanted to get some ideas down before she forgot them.

A little over two hours later she had the roughest outline she'd ever cobbled together in her life. It was a start, though, and she felt a small sense of accomplishment as she reviewed her work. Now she really needed that shower. She indulged a little longer than she normally did, letting the warm water sluice over her as the tension and panic of the last twenty four hours slid away. It was finally over.

It was a weird feeling, to be done. All her life she'd been fighting, scraping, searching for something to finally put to rest the ghost that chased her in her dreams. It wasn't the justice she'd pictured for her mother, but she liked to think Nancy Armstrong would be proud of the work they'd done.

When she stepped out of her bathroom, Mitch was sitting on her bed in new clothes. His hair was damp from his own shower, and he had made a quick attempt to shave if the small piece of toilet paper stuck to his chin was any indication.

"You ready to save the world?" she asked him lightly, feeling anything but light as she sank onto the mattress next to him. He was unnaturally quiet, and she turned toward him just enough to brush his hair away from his face. It was getting longer, and he'd need a trim soon. "You okay?"

When he finally looked up she felt her body recoil at the anguish in his eyes. "He's dead."

Jamie's heart stopped. "Jackson? Jackson's dead? What happened? How…?"

Mitch shook his head mutely, then swallowed. When he spoke, it was in stuttering, nonsensical half-sentences. "Not Jackson. Robert. I...there wasn't...I had to -"

"Mitch, you're scaring me."

The pain his eyes solidified into something darker and he stood. "I have to go."

"No." She grabbed his hand in a vice-like grip and held on, pulling herself up to stand beside him and keep him anchored. "Talk to me."

He clenched his jaw so tightly that Jamie thought he might break a molar. His eyes were planted firmly on the door, and Jamie was sure the only thing keeping him from running was her firm hold on his hand. Suddenly he deflated, his entire body sagging like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She pushed him back to sit on the bed, bending her leg to tuck her shin along his thigh as he leaned forward, burying his head in his hands.

"Please talk to me," she whispered. She wasn't sure if the hand rubbing circles on his back was helping, but she needed some sort of physical connection to him right now, with his mind a million miles away.

He took a shuddering breath and she realized he was crying. Losing Robert Oz was a surprise, and Jamie certainly felt a pang of sympathy for Jackson. He'd just gotten his father back. But Mitch had been far from the man's biggest fan; if pressed, Jamie would describe his attitude as grudging tolerance. Mitch wouldn't cry for the man, wouldn't cry for much of anything.

"It was his fault."

Mitch's voice was gravelly, and so quiet that if Jamie hadn't been nearly pressed against him she might not have heard it at all. She had a million questions, but she forced them silent in her mind and let Mitch gather his thoughts as he searched for the right words.

"Clem's disease," he explained as he sat up straighter. His cheeks were wet but his eyes dry, and the storm that Jamie had seen in them moments ago had been pushed back behind the sorrow he was now fighting. "Reiden, Robert Oz, the Shepherds - they manufactured Glazier's Disease in their quest to stop the spread of the mutation. They -" his throat closed over his words and he looked away from her, obviously embarrassed by his emotional display.

But Jamie was no stranger to breakdowns and she was determined to give Mitch the steadfast, unconditional support he'd provided her in those precarious weeks after Canada. She reached up and slipped his glasses from his face, directing him to stretch out on her bed as she laid down next to him. She draped herself around him, tucking his head under her chin as his arms snaked around her desperately.

Jamie hated this. He was in pain, a father's pain, and she could do nothing but hold him as he worked through it. He didn't cry again, but she could feel his labored breathing beneath her hands as she stroked his back. When his hold loosened slightly, she pulled back and adjusted them so they were nose to nose on her pillow. He finally met her eyes, and Jamie marveled at the myriad of emotions she saw in his. In a brief moment of levity, she closed the remaining inch between them and kissed his nose softly. He wrinkled it and she smiled.

He did, too, for a moment. Then it faded. "Jackson wasn't producing enough of the cure. His body was still fighting the acid. Robert offered to pre-stage it, to take the strain off of Jackson's system so he could produce enough of the cure before he ran out of blood. But in order for him to do that, he had to have the genomic fossil serum."

"And since he doesn't have the ghost gene," Jamie prompted.

"Yeah." Mitch dropped her gaze ashamedly. "It was the only way, but -"

"But a small part of you felt justified, because of his role in Clem's illness - in the deaths of all the children who had the disease." His eyes snapped back up to hers and this time her smile was sad. "I pushed Logan out of the plane, after Davies and his men attacked. He was going to jump, going to get away after he lied to me, betrayed my trust and almost destroyed everything we'd worked for. I was angry and hurt, so I shot him with a tranq dart and shoved him out the door. The only reason he's not dead is the fail-safe measure on his chute that deployed it automatically."

He didn't say anything for a moment, but she could see no judgment in his gaze. It was the deepest secret she still had and, if she was being honest, the biggest reason for keeping it had been her own fear - fear of his reaction, of seeing his disgust or revulsion at her actions. She knew now he'd harbored the same fear. She remembered her earlier words - _you're scaring me_ \- and berated herself for the slip.

"Mitch, look at me. Please," she added to take the edge off of the command. He did. "You are the bravest, strongest, most compassionate man I have ever met." He flinched and tried to pull away, but she kept him anchored to the bed. "No, listen to me. I know you - all of you - and I love you. I love that you can make me laugh even when I'm sad. I love that you tackle any problem with everything you have, even stupid ones like missing cats in Brentwood." That pulled a smile from him, albeit a small one. She'd take it. "But what I love most is that you don't give up. You did everything you could after Clem got sick. Your career, your reputation...none of it mattered to you in the face of your daughter's life.

"You didn't give up on me, either. Not when I thought I'd failed. Not when I was lost in New Brunswick. Not when I thought everything I had done had changed me forever. You pushed and searched and fought and remained unwaveringly patient. You didn't shy away from the darkness in me, and I'm not running from yours. It's a part of us, brought out in horrific circumstances but there nonetheless. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to hide that part of you away from me, okay? Because I _understand_. I know what it feels like, and I want you to be able to talk to me about it. You've always been there for me, always believed in me. I'm not sure if I ever told you, but your belief in me is single-handedly the greatest thing anyone's ever given me. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of the gift."

She hadn't meant to make a speech, hadn't meant to ramble on for as long as she had, but apparently she'd needed to say it and he needed to hear it. His hand lifted from where it was resting on her hip, and she closed her eyes as his fingers brushed across her temple. His fingers were replaced with his lips, and she hummed in contentment.

"Yes."

Her eyes popped open as her nose scrunched in confusion. "Huh?"

His brown eyes were warm as he smiled at her, all traces of his earlier distress gone. "I believe, Miss Campbell, that you just proposed to me. I accept."

Jamie faltered for a moment, her bewildered protest stuttering from her mouth in fits and spurts. He shut her up with a kiss, searing and fierce and full of promise. When it was over she held him close, letting her chest expand and fall with his as they breathed in the silence. There was still work to be done; the cure needed to be sent to the Shepherds so they could prep the birds, and someone would need to monitor the cure's progress across the globe over the next few weeks. There would be talks and meetings and interviews, there would be papers to write and forms to sign.

But right now, in this moment, Jamie let all of their worries and troubles fall away as visions of her future with Mitch danced through her mind.


	26. Clementine - Oh My Darling

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 26: Clementine - Oh My Darling

 _With the cure made, the finish line is in sight for the team. But things take a turn for the worse when the Shepherds' insidious plan comes to light and Mitch is forced to make a difficult decision._

* * *

It really was a spectacular sight - 40,000 birds housed in cages on every beach on the island. The cure. They were finally going to distribute the cure they'd been working on for almost sixteen months straight. It was over.

Mitch looked down at the remote in his hand, given to him by Mansdale, then back up at his friends. They had been with him through it all, thick and thin, bad times and good. It was a strange feeling, to belong. Two years ago, he wouldn't have thought it possible, but here he was, surrounded by friends that were more like family.

"I wish Chloe was here," Jamie had stuffed her hands in her pockets as she shuffled closer to him. She sounded equal parts happy and sad, and Mitch spared her a sidelong glance.

"Chloe would have loved this," Jackson agreed. "To see the animals - the world - back to the way it once was."

Mitch's heart ached at his words, the pain of Chloe's loss still terrible but tempered by time. He'd come to terms with it, analyzed and reconciled his own emotions regarding Chloe's death, but now the pain of that loss was laced with something akin to sympathy at Jackson's words. He knew how it felt to lose the one you love, to continue the work even when everything inside was screaming to give it up. He'd lived it once; he never wanted to again.

"What are you waiting for?" Dariela's teasing voice pushed through his melancholy, and he glanced at her. "Push it already."

And he did.

The cages behind them opened as one, releasing the flock of white birds into the air. Mitch stared in wonder as they soared and swirled above them, graceful and beautiful. They stayed in formation for a moment, as though they understood that the humans on the shorelines were watching. Then slowly, in small groups at first, then gradually larger ones, they began to peel from the group, off to fulfill their mission and spread the cure.

Jamie was the first to break away, and Mitch fell into step easily beside her. He tapped the now-useless controller in his hand twice before he tossed it into the sand. His fingers sought hers, intertwining as they strolled down the beach amid the cheers and congratulations of the gathered Shepherds.

"Hey, you ever been to Maine?"

If she was surprised by his question, she didn't show it. "No."

"Wanna go to Maine with me?" He tugged her to a stop, turning to let his other hand find hers. "There's someone I'd like you meet."

"Clem?" She sounded surprised and hopeful at the same time, and he smiled. "Um, yeah, yes I would love that."

"Good," he leaned in and watched as her eyes darted down to his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but he was already too eager to see his daughter again. "Then can we get the hell out of here?"

She laughed, bright and free, and his heart rejoiced to see it. "I'll call Trotter." He let her go and turned back to Jackson and the others, gathered around each other looking just as triumphant as he felt. He strolled back toward them smiling.

"So what now?" Jackson asked him quietly.

Mitch glanced back to where Jamie was. Her back was turned but he could see the phone cradled against her ear. "Now, we go home."

"Your daughter's going to be happy to see you," Jackson said. He reached out and laid a hand on Mitch's shoulder; the gesture felt like forgiveness. Mitch didn't regret Robert Oz's death - it had been necessary to synthesize the cure, and the man had sacrificed himself willingly for the cause. But Mitch did feel guilty at the vindication he felt, the sense of _rightness_ that settled in him as he died. Oz and his companions here on Pangaea had created Glazier's Disease on accident, a freak byproduct of an attempt to contain the cure. In their arrogance they had killed thousands of innocent children, doomed them to an agonizing, suffering existence. Rationally, Mitch understood that Robert's death would not bring those children back, could not ease the pain their families felt at their passing. But the father in him reveled in the justice served.

"Yes," Mitch realized he hadn't really said anything, and he returned Jackson's brief smile. "And what about -"

"They're dropping the gas!" Jamie's panicked voice rang out across the beach, and they all turned as she ran toward them. "The Noah Object -" she came a stop, breathless, beside them. "The Noah Objective...it's on. They're clearing the air space. The planes are in the air already."

"You said you took care of the Noah Objective!" Dariela's anger was directed at the group now walking up to them, led my Mansdale.

"And I did," he replied. "The planes are doing exactly what they're meant to do."

"You did this?" Jackson took a step forward, his voice dipping dangerously low. Two of the Shepherds reached out to restrain him as the others raised their weapons at the group. "We just released the cure! What are you -? That gas is gonna kill all the animals, Mansdale!"

Terror gripped Mitch's heart like a vice, squeezing the air from him as a singular, solid thought settled over him. "And Clem." Logic went out the window as the rage consumed him, and he lashed out with an elbow toward the nearest Shepherd. It caught him in the cheek and sent him sprawling, but there were just too many of them. Almost as soon as Mitch made contact, two more surged forward to contain him. A blow to his back drove him to his knees, and he heard Jamie cry out his name.

Cool fingers grasped his arm and hauled him upright as Mansdale continued. "It'll all be clear to you - to the entire world - very soon."

"You son of a bitch!" Jackson broke free from the man holding him and charged at Mansdale, but he was brought up short by another Shepherd tackling him to the ground.

"Get them out of here!" Mansdale ordered.

They were escorted to the far side of the island and thrown into what Mitch could only describe as a cave prison. Iron doors were barred from the outside, and Jackson threw himself against them repeatedly as he screamed in protest.

"We gotta get out of here," Jackson pulled on the door again, but it still didn't budge.

"Let's look over here," Abe sounded far off, and when Mitch turned away he saw the larger man disappearing down a dark tunnel. He pulled Jackson away from the door to follow the others.

"I gotta get to my daughter."

"We'll figure it out, Mitch."

"Well, that's easy for you to say," Mitch snapped. "The serum cured you. Clem still has the ghost gene. Once they drop that gas over Maine she's got less than twelve hours to live."

They hit a dead end and a large iron gate. Jamie gripped the bars futilely and groaned in frustration. "Why would the Shepherds help us to make a cure to save the animals and then drop a gas that will kill them?"

Mitch knew he should be wondering the same thing. The answer to that question could be the key to solving this entire mystery, but he could think of nothing else but his daughter.

"Check these out." Dariela had leaned in close to the wall, her fingers tracing deep marks in the stone. Mitch moved to take a closer look, but jumped back when she did. "What the hell?"

"What was that?"

Something shifted in the darkness, and Mitch shuffled sideways toward Jamie. The thing moved again, this time emitting a very audible groan. The shape in the dark solidified into a person, and Mitch bit back a groan of his own.

"Logan?" Abe reached for the injured man. "What happened to you?"

Logan leaned back against the stone wall with a pained gasp. In the dim light, Mitch could see Abe inspecting a deep wound on his arm. "Some kind of animal gets in here," he said. "I barely made it into this crevice."

Next to him, Jamie spoke in the most disdainful tone he'd ever heard from her. "Well, you're one lucky son of a bitch, then, aren't you?"

A klaxon blared overhead and Logan shrank back. "Oh, no, no, no, no. It's feeding time again!" He looked terrified, and Mitch felt a small surprising bit of sympathy for him. "The gate opens," he said. "They come in here. This cavern is their food bowl."

But Dariela was already forming a plan. "As soon as that gate opens, I say we run like hell."

It wasn't much of a plan, but it beat sitting around waiting to be eaten by whatever the hell was out there. Jackson went to help Logan despite Jamie and Mitch's protests (" _Leave him." "Best idea ever."_ ) and the moment the gate slid back they bolted into the forest.

Jamie had a tight hold of his hand, as though she was afraid he would vanish if they were separated for even one second. Over the sounds of whatever animals was snarling on their heels, he could hear her sharp, short breaths as he tugged her along behind him. He could hear the others as well, tromping through the undergrowth, but he kept his eyes up, following the Southern Cross as he caught glimpses of it between the trees.

"No," he heard Jamie's soft exclamation at the end of a breath, and Mitch let her go as they slowed to a stop in front of another gate. This one was larger, and even from a distance Mitch could hear the buzz of electricity. This one wasn't keeping something out, it was keeping it in - in with them.

"We're in Section K."

Mitch glanced over at Dariela. "What the hell is Section K?"

Abe stepped up on his other side. "Reece said it's where the Shepherds keep their mistakes."

"Mistakes?" That didn't sound good. "They have mistakes?"

"Apparently," Dariela said. "And a lot of them."

The growling was getting louder, and they were running out of time. Abe pushed Mitch and Dariela away as he put a little more space between them and the electrified fence. "Get back," he directed. Mitch moved to Jamie and grabbed her hand again as Abe tossed the metal rung he'd torn off of the ladder. It hit the fence and sent a shower of sparks into the air, shorting the circuit and opening the gate.

"Go!"

"We need to move!" Jackson was still supporting Logan as they hurried through the breach. They only made it a few steps when a truck skidded to a stop.

"Freeze!" The driver stepped out with a gun trained on them. "Stay right where you are! Do not move!" He reached up with his free hand and keyed on the mic strapped to his shoulder. "Command, we have a problem at Section K, Gate Three."

He was cut off by a bark of feral anger. A pack of what appeared to be mutated wolves came charging through the brush. Mitch felt Jamie jerk back in fear, but he kept a hold of her hand. If she ran now, they would give chase and kill them all.

The guard turned to the attacking hybrids and began firing, drawing their attention away from Mitch and the others. The lead wolf didn't break stride as he leaped, landing on the man and taking him down amid a chorus of hungry growls and snarls. Mitch grimaced and turned away, angling his body as he felt Jamie lean into him.

"Let's go! Move!" Abe dashed for a small side trail, leading the others away from the carnage behind them. Mitch grabbed a hold of Jamie's hand again, keeping her just a little closer as they ran back toward the runway.

They made it to the plane almost ten minutes later. Mitch felt his adrenaline rush from the fear shift focus as he bounded up the ramp and into the plane proper. He had a bad feeling that wouldn't leave him alone, and he ignored Dariela's warning to wait. She was already grabbing rifles from the armory as Jamie and Jackson followed his hasty dash back to the lab, but he couldn't wait.

The lab had been completely trashed. Equipment lay broken and upended, tables sat askew, and just about everything that could hold a tiny vial had been ransacked and searched.

"The triple helix animals are gone," Jamie cried. But Mitch wasn't paying attention. He moved straight for the fridge, his fingers sifting through the mess in search of the one vial he knew wouldn't be there.

"The genomic fossil serum's gone." He slammed the door closed in anger, not caring that it bounced open again. There was nothing in there worth preserving anymore.

"Mitch, I know the serum cured me, but it killed my father," Jackson said as he cleaned Logan's wounds. "Are you sure it's safe for Clem?"

"The drug that Reiden gave Clem is a neuroprotectant," he felt the science slip over him like a safety blanket. "It'll stop the side effects of the serum."

"Reiden did something good for once." Mitch glanced back at Jamie with a soft smile despite the tightening in his chest. He had to agree. While he was still so very angry at the circumstances surrounding Clem's illness (and he knew there would be a reckoning one day), he couldn't deny that the trial medication he'd taken from Burke had done more than just rid her of the disease. It may very well be the only thing that could save her life.

Dariela came back in with Abe seconds later, her rifle stowed on her back. "Trotter's safe, plane's secure."

Mitch heard the engines starting up. "Once that gas drops, we'll have less than twelve hours to get the serum to her. I am not leaving here without it." He needed to talk to Audra, let her know what to do in case Clem reacted badly to the initial gas drop. She needed to find an oxygen tank and mask if she took a bad turn before he could get there. Isolating her would be best, though Mitch wasn't sure if the safe zone she was staying in had anything resembling a medical quarantine area.

"You want to go back out there?" Logan yelled.

Mitch didn't even glance back at him, just jogged up the stairs toward the conference room. "That is exactly what we're gonna do," he promised. He heard soft footfalls on the steps behind him and knew Jamie was following. She stopped just at the top of the steps as Mitch shed his jacket and grabbed the keyboard. He didn't know if she was supporting him or escaping Logan, but either way he was grateful for her presence as he dialed the Portland Safe Zone.

"Somebody answer," he mumbled absently as the line buzzed over and over again. "Come on, just answer." A sick feeling settled in his gut and wouldn't abate. "Come on, come on, come on…"

It finally beeped as the line connected, though there was still no picture. "Hey," he called. "Somebody there?" The image blinked on, though the camera was pointed down and away like it had been knocked over. A pair of hands reached out to set it right. "Hello?"

A man who looked to be in his forties stared back, a butterfly bandage covering a cut on his brow. He looked haggard and dirty, like he'd just been in a battle, and that sick feeling in Mitch's gut began to grow. "Hello?" he answered.

"Hey, yeah, I'm looking for Audra Lewis?" The man didn't answer right away, but the haunted look in his eye deepened into something that had Mitch squirming. "Sir, Audra Lewis," he repeated. "Do you know her?"

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

Behind him, Mitch heard Jamie stifle a gasp.

"Why, wh-what happened?"

"The safe zone was attacked," the man explained. "By animals. I'm sorry...Audra and Justin were killed."

 _No._

The man's image blurred as Mitch fought tears, and Jamie came to stand at his back as he swallowed his grief and asked the question that could break him. "Where...where's Clementine." But the man was still sputtering through his own anguish, lamenting about Audra and Justin and not hearing Mitch's question. He never mentioned Clem, though, and Mitch had hope. "Sir! Where is my daughter?"

"Clem was evacuated along with my son, David." Relief hit him like a tidal wave and he slumped back in his seat. Jamie's hand gripped his shoulder, and Mitch raised his to cover it in thanks. "They took all the children," the man continued.

"Okay," Mitch cleared his throat and processed the information. If Clem had been evacuated, then she was safe for now. But he still needed to get to her. "Evacuated where? Where...where'd they take them?"

"I don't know. Dozens of temporary shelters were set up along the coast."

"Okay -" Mitch's next question was cut off by a siren. "Wh-what's that noise?"

The man looked fearful, like he'd heard the siren before and knew exactly what it meant. "I'm sorry," he stood up quickly. "I have to go. They're dropping the gas. Thank God."

"Are those the Noah Objective planes?" Mitch craned his neck as though he could see the sky in Maine, but it was pointless. The call disconnected and Mitch was left with a black screen. "Hey, no, no, don't go!" He slammed his hand on the table, his voice cracking in distress as he screamed. Without knowing where Clem was, where they'd taken her, there was no way he could get to her in time. His daughter was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Jamie's hand moved from his shoulder to his neck as she slipped around and pulled him against her. "It's going to be okay," she told him quietly.

"She could be anywhere," he whispered against her stomach hoarsely.

"We're gonna find her. You hear me? We'll find her, Mitch." Her fingers carded through his hair as his breath shuddered past his lips, and despite his grief he nodded. Her words gave him hope, though it seemed foolish.

A soft voice broke through the gloom of the moment. "Jamie." It was Jackson. She took a half step around Mitch to give him a moment to compose himself, for which he was grateful.

"What is it?" she asked.

"We found a way into the compound."

The way turned out to be an old service entrance that led from a small building next to the runway to the north side of the main compound. Abe, Dariela and Logan stayed behind to guard the plane and to keep the engines warm. They needed to be airborne the moment they returned with the serum. Jackson was sporting a wicked looking rifle loaded with live rounds. No more tranqs.

They expected resistance inside the compound but were met with only gruesome, bloody corpses. Jackson led the way with Jamie between him and Mitch. They'd both wanted her to stay on the plane, but Abe refused to leave Dariela alone and there was no way any of them would trust Logan. Jamie had been adamant, and Mitch didn't have time to argue.

"Oh my God," she breathed as they stepped over the mauled body of a Shepherd.

"Those razorback wolves are no joke." Jackson crept forward, his rifle at the ready. "They didn't leave anybody alive."

"Let's just find that serum and get out of here." Mitch didn't have pity for the dead. They'd brought this upon themselves with their experimentation and lies.

They came upon a room filled with shelves upon shelves of journals, books, and papers. Sitting in the center was a small tank illuminated blue with a soft light. "Hey, Moe." The small jellyfish floated contentedly within, and Mitch lamented briefly that they wouldn't be able to take the little guy back with them. He'd grown a bit fond of the tiny _medusa._

They rummaged through the shelves, searching for the small vial that would save Clem's life. After a few minutes, Jackson gestured vaguely toward the other door.

"I'm gonna check upstairs."

It seemed like an impossible task. The compound was too big, there were too many rooms, too many hidden nooks they could have put it. That was assuming it was still here at all - that one of the Shepherds hadn't absconded from the island with the last chance for his daughter's life.

"Who are we kidding?" Mitch's cynicism leaked into his tone even as he kept digging. "The serum's not gonna be here."

"Hey," Jamie shuffled over to his side, "we are going to find it. Then we are going to get to Maine, and you, me and Clem are gonna...do whatever people do in Maine. Okay?" Her hand was light and warm on his back, as though she could will some of her optimism into him through the contact.

"Yeah," he agreed with her automatically, his mind already grasping onto the mental picture she painted like a lifeline. She patted his back one more time before shifting her focus to the other side of the room. Mitch was halfway through an old ammo box when she spoke again.

"What is this thing?"

He turned to find her inspecting a large, almost glassy looking image. "It's old x-ray film," he told her.

She slid it back into the container and glanced up at the other piles of what appeared to be junk. "This must be the stuff Robert took from Pierce's place in Holbeach."

They sifted through the boxes until they stumbled upon an old journal. Mitch couldn't believe their luck. It wouldn't save Clem, but it did answer a lot of questions about the origins of the triple-helix and Pierce's early research.

"It looks like Pierce knew that his x-rays were affecting the animals."

Mitch peered over Jamie's shoulder at the journal she was flipping through. "He developed a chemical compound to sterilize triple-helix animals. Which is why the environmental events stopped."

"But if he sterilized them, then they couldn't reproduce. How'd the triple helix survive?"

"It's possible that the triple helix was only quieted in some of the animals, silencing its genetic instructions," he theorized. "Hence, the genomic fossils."

"So, triple helix went dormant, until the Mother Cell woke it back up."

Mitch almost grinned at her; he'd make a scientist out of her yet.

"Found it!" Jackson burst back in holding the small white vial, and Mitch sighed audibly in relief. He'd found the serum. Now they just needed to get the hell out of here.

" _Perimeter breach in southeast sector,_ " a computerized voice announced as a warning alarm blared overhead.

"Come on." Jackson tucked the serum away and led them through to a command center. A large array of screens on the front wall monitored what looked to be every inch of the island. The center screen showed a pack of razorback wolves attacking a fence labeled Section K Perimeter.

"Where did all those hybrids come from?"

"I don't know," Mitch glanced from that screen to another, where a digitized display showed a yellow dotted line stretching over the compound and the runway. It was the fence, Mitch realized, and the small section nearest them had been colored red where the hybrids were attacking, trying to break through. "If they storm that runway, the plane can't take off." He pointed to another screen, this one showing a slowly diminishing power level. "If we don't get that power up to a hundred percent, get that fence working, they're coming straight for us."

The station nearest him was still working, the tablet abandoned by the tech who was no doubt lying in a corridor somewhere. But if the hybrids were still trapped behind the fence, what had killed the workers? There had to be a small pack still inside the building, or at least nearby. Mitch had to work fast.

It took him a moment to familiarize himself with the controls, but eventually he found the necessary pathways to reroute power from non-essential systems. Jackson and Jamie began rooting through the other workstations looking for any clue as to why the Shepherds had double-crossed them.

"Okay," Mitch watched as the power level jumped from thirty four percent to fifty. "It's working. The system's redirecting power back to the fence."

"I found these," Jamie set a case of flash drives on the table in front of him. Hopefully the information contained on them could help them figure out what the Shepherds were up to.

"Unbelievable," Jackson exclaimed.

"What?"

"It's the data from one of my father's experiments. It looks like he was working on the TX-14 gas long before he met Davies." He flipped through the folder frantically. "You know how the neutralizer made it so the poison only targeted the animals?"

Mitch saw Jamie glance at him briefly before answering. "Yeah."

"Well, it looks like he was working on an alternate neutralizer."

"Alternate how?" Mitch kept his eyes on the power levels, but Jackson's new mystery was intriguing.

"This neutralizer isn't going to make it so the gas is safe for humans. It's going to make it so the gas is safe for animals."

"That's insane," Jamie said as she moved over to look. "Why would your father want to target humans?"

With Jamie distracted, Mitch turned his focus to their more pressing problem. Seconds prior, he'd silenced the alarm that had popped up as two pairs of razorbacks had entered the compound. One group had disappeared into the underbelly, but the second was creeping down the northern corridor. Thankfully they hadn't found the access tunnel that would lead them straight to the plane; it seemed they'd caught the scent of humans and were in hunting mode.

As Jackson and Jamie rattled on about the Shepherds and what they could possibly be doing, Mitch checked the south corridor. It was clear.

"Hey," he interrupted their conversation with what he hoped was a casual, controlled tone. "You guys should probably head back."

"Fence back on?" Jackson asked.

"Almost."

"Well, we're not going without you." Jamie's insistence was predictable. And heartbreaking. Someone had to stay to make sure the fence reached full power, but with the wolves so close, there was no way that there would be time after to make it to the plane. Whoever stayed…

Mitch thought about his daughter, about Clem dying, choking and gasping for air. He remembered Chloe, remembered how helpless he'd been to save her. But he could save Clem. He could save them all.

"Listen," he turned to face them, "if there's another power surge and that fence fails while we're out there in the open or while the plane's taxiing? We're toast. Just need a couple more minutes." He tried to sound reassuring as he met Jamie's skeptical gaze. "Get back to the plane, tell Trotter to fire it up." He looked up at Jackson, willing the younger man to understand. "You've got the serum, right?"

He did. "It's in the bag." Mitch understood what he wasn't saying, what he couldn't say.

"Take these," Mitch held out the flash drives for Jamie. "There might be some info on them about the Shepherds." She stood merely feet away, staring at him like he'd grown two heads. "Take them," he urged. "I'll be fine." Mitch called out as Jackson stepped toward the door. "South exit," he ushered his friend away from the path of the hungry hybrids. "It's faster."

"No," Jamie took the case but didn't budge. "We're not leaving you here."

"I'm right behind you." Mitch winced internally; did anyone actually ever believe those words?

"They're here, aren't they?" Jamie whispered. He'd never been particularly good at lying, but Jamie had always been able to read him better than anyone. It didn't surprise him that his attempt at deception had failed. "They're in the building. Mitch let's go!" She reached forward to grab his arm, but he leaned away. "Mitch!"

"It won't hold," he dropped the pretense as he bolted for the northern door. He slammed it closed and locked it as he heard the scrabbling of claws on concrete floor. "You have to go now."

"I'm not leaving you," Jamie took a step toward him, but was stopped by Jackson's grip on her arm. "Let me go." She jerked her arm away and took another step.

Mitch looked anywhere but her eyes. He knew if he did, if he caught sight of the agony in their blue depths, he would falter. His gaze settled on the screen behind her. "If that fence fails, we all die."

But Jamie refused to listen. "If you stay here, _you'll_ die!" She was crying now, and Mitch's heart broke to hear it. But there was nothing to be done. He had to stay.

He swallowed the lump stuck in his throat and uttered one word. "Jackson."

A million words passed between the two men in an instant. In the end, Jackson just nodded once and snaked an arm around Jamie's middle.

"No!" She fought against his hold, crying and pleading as he hauled her bodily toward the south exit. She screamed and struggled in his arms, her hands reaching back as if to grab Mitch and bring him with her. "No! Let me go! Mitch, please! Jackson, let me go! _Mitch!_ "

Her cries faded as they disappeared around the corner. Mitch wiped his eyes with his sleeve and moved back to his workstation. The fence power was at seventy four percent and climbing steadily, but slowly. He could hear the wolves at the closed door behind him, savage and crazed as they slammed against the barrier.

His phone rang minutes later. It was Abe. He hit the button for speaker phone but didn't say anything. He wasn't sure there was anything left to say.

"Mitch, are you there?"

"Yeah," Mitch cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm here."

"What are you doing? Jackson has ordered Trotter to take off without you!"

"That's right."

"But -"

"I've been meaning to tell you something," Mitch cut him off before he could launch into a speech. He had one of his own that he needed to get out before the monsters broke down the door. "You made the right call in New Brunswick. I couldn't leave Jamie there, but you knew we had to. You knew the mission was more important than any one person." It was a lesson Mitch had been slow in learning. Now he understood it better than ever.

"I need you to do something else for me," he continued. Eighty percent. "I need you to promise me that you guys will look after Clem. You're her family now. You guys are her family now. And tell Jamie...tell her that I love her. And that I'm sorry."

When Abe spoke, his voice was pitched low with sorrow. "I will. I promise."

Mitch watched the bar climb steadily onward, smiling as it flashed green and full. " _Southeast perimeter secured._ "

"You guys have about nine hours to get that serum to Clem. So get that bird in the air."

The door behind him began to splinter and crack as the hybrids began to break through. "Mitch?" he heard Abe's frantic voice calling for him. He reached out with his hand and disconnected the call; his friend could be spared this, at least. Mitch closed his eyes as the door finally gave way under the onslaught of the ravenous razorbacks.

He heard their angry snarls turn to triumphant howls as they breached the door. Mitch turned to face his fate but refused to open his eyes. He wanted the last thing he saw to be Jamie's face alight with laughter, even if it was only in his mind's eye.

"I win."

 _EIGHT HOURS LATER  
Just outside Portland, Maine_

Clementine Lewis sat in the main dormitory area absently picking at the flaking paint on the table. There was nothing else to do, and even if there were she didn't feel like doing anything. Not now.

She felt her throat tighten as she thought about her mom and Justin again, but she had no more tears to cry. Her head ached and her eyes were scratchy from the crying she'd done all the way from the safe zone. She remembered the chaos of the night before last, the frantic two a.m. awakening, the hurried rush to pile all of the children into an armored truck. Clem had barely managed to keep a hold of her teddy bear, the one her mom had gotten her for her eighth birthday. It was tucked safely in the small, black backpack she'd been given upon arriving at the new shelter. It didn't hold much - a hairbrush, toothbrush and toothpaste, a plain black shirt and a few granola bars - but it was the only thing she had. She hadn't even been able to grab the picture she'd taken from her nightstand in Boston, the one with Henry and her dad.

Another kind of sadness ripped through her heart at the thought of him, but this was one was tinted with anger. He'd promised! He'd promised to cure the animals, to make everything right again. But he hadn't, and now her mom was dead. Did he even know? Did he even care?

"Clementine?"

She glanced up at the two people standing across the table. The woman with wavy, auburn hair looked vaguely familiar, but the man was a stranger. There were so many people at this new shelter, so many bodies, that she'd sort of just tuned out the bustle. She hadn't even noticed their approach.

"Yeah?"

The woman smiled a little, but Clem could see sadness in her eyes, too. "I'm Jamie," she said finally. "This is Jackson. We're...friends of your dad's."

"You're Jamie?" Clem had had exactly one conversation with the woman over text. It seemed like forever ago.

"I am," she slid into a chair across from Clem. "It's nice to finally meet you."

If Jamie was here, then that meant her dad probably was, too. She glanced around but didn't see him. Jamie wouldn't quite meet her eyes when she asked and she grew worried. Jackson sat down, too, and Clem finally saw the case he had been holding as he set it on the table. "Your dad, uh...he made this for you. It's a medicine you need to take. It turns out there's still a part of your Glazier's Disease that we need to fix."

"So he'll fix me but not the animals." Clem's outrage was back, bubbling out of her before she could stop it. "He promised." The anger soured to resentment in her chest and she slouched. "I don't want to see him."

"Clementine," Jamie's voice caught on her name, and the girl looked up to see tears in her eyes. "Clem…"

"I mean it," she insisted hotly. "I don't want to see him. He said he would fix the animals and he didn't. They came to safe zone. They killed my mom and Justin!" Her own tears were building again, and Jamie slid around the table to sit in the chair next to her.

"I'm so, so sorry Clem," she reached out and laid hand on the girl's shoulder.

But she wasn't finished. Now that it had an outlet, all of her frustration came spilling out. "And now the people at the safe zone are gonna kill Henry! They're gonna kill all the animals in quarantine." Henry was the only thing she had left, the only thing she cared about now. And soon he would be killed, too. She felt Jamie's hand slip further around her shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug. It felt good to be comforted after everything she'd been through. It was almost like her mom was still alive.

"Clem," she spoke softly enough that Clem was sure only she could hear. "It's very important we give you this shot, okay?"

"What about Henry?" Clem pulled back and wiped her nose on her sleeve. No one scolded her.

"How about this," Jamie said. "We give you this shot, and then I promise you we will find Henry."

She thought about it for a moment, but knew what her answer would be. "Okay."

Jackson administered the shot - a quick, untrained jab to her arm - but she didn't flinch. When it was over, Clem stood up and shouldered her small bag.

"Let's go."

Henry had been left in quarantine at the original safe zone. Jackson and Jamie took Clem to their car, where two other people were waiting. They were introduced quickly as Clem pointed them toward the safe zone. There was no one inside except for military personnel, but as they walked up to the gates they saw a mob of people demanding that the animals inside be put down.

"See!" Clem cried. "They want to kill the animals! You said you would help Henry."

"Look," Abe stepped forward and pointed to the tops of the fences. "Some of the birds from Pangaea. They made it. They will cure the animals."

In the end, it was decided that Jamie would stay with Clem while the other three went to look for Henry. Clem wanted to protest, wanted to go in there and find her dog, but the memory of the attack kept her rooted firmly on the outside of the fence. She hadn't seen much during the evacuation, but she'd heard the screams and the awful wailing of what sounded like large cats. She didn't want to step foot inside and possibly seeing the bloodshed inside.

She felt a warm arm slip around her shoulders, and she looked up at Jamie. "Come on," the woman said. "Let's go sit down."

The angry mob railed loudly against the fences, but Jamie steered them away from the madness toward a small hill. They found shelter under an old tree and sat down side by side with their backs against the wide trunk. Clem drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them to ward off a sudden chill.

"You know," Jamie began, "your dad talked about you a lot. You were always the most important thing to him, Clem. I know it doesn't seem like it, but -"

"He's gone, isn't he?" She'd had a horrible feeling ever since the brief conversation with Jackson and Jamie at the shelter. She expected to see him in the car when they'd left, and when she hadn't she knew.

"I…" Jamie turned her head away, probably so Clem wouldn't see her crying, but she did. "I'm sorry, Clem. I am. He…"

Seeing Jamie's tears brought back her own, and she collapsed into the woman's arms the moment she reached out. They both wept until they were spent, and still they held onto each other. Clem rested her head against Jamie's shoulder and relaxed under the gentle feel of fingers in her hair.

"We're gonna look after you now." Jamie's promise was a whisper of warmth on her worried heart. "You're not alone, sweetie."

"Thank you." Clem snaked her arms around Jamie's middle and squeezed, grateful to finally have someone to hold onto after the chaos of the last forty-eight hours.

An urgent bark made her jerk up and out of Jamie's arms. She scrambled to her feet and looked around for its source. A golden-brown head bobbed up over the hill as Henry came bounding at her full speed.

"Henry!"

Clem only had to take three steps before her arms were full of excited pup. Henry barked and bounced around her until she fell to her knees. He sat obediently as Clem hugged him, his tail thumping wildly on the ground as he tried to lick her ear. She looked up and grinned at Jamie, who had come over the moment Henry had appeared.

"He did it," Clem told her. "My dad cured all these animals."

"Yes, he did," Jamie smiled back, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "He did it for you, Clem."

"He did it for all of us," the girl corrected. "My dad's a hero."

"Nice to hear someone appreciates me."

Clem turned her neck so quickly it popped, sending a lance of pain through it. She didn't care. There he was, standing just on the other side of the tree with his right arm in a sling and a slanted smile on his face. A white bandage covered the left side of his brow, and he was hunched awkwardly in a way that might mean there were wounds they couldn't see. The others seemed to be frozen, but Clem felt her legs moving all on their own.

"Dad!" Clem covered the distance between them in just a few strides, and despite his injuries he caught her when she jumped into his arms. "You're here." She buried her face in his shoulder, crying as his good arm banded around her back.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm here, Clem."

For a few moments he spoke to her softly, soothing her tears her with quiet words and clutching her tightly against him. She knew she was hurting him - she could hear it in his voice - but she didn't let go until her arms ached. When he finally set her down on her feet, he glanced up at the others.

Jamie was the first to move. Clem shifted over to give her room, knowing she'd probably want to hug him, too.

 _Crack!_

Jamie's palm connected with Mitch's cheek with such force that his head snapped to the side. Clem clutched her dad's hand fearfully, but he didn't look angry. Instead, he lifted his arm from Clem's shoulders and reached for Jamie.

"I'm sorry," he whispered once, then again. Clem held her breath as, for a moment, neither of them moved. Then Jamie let out a harsh sob and collapsed against him, crying into his shoulder as Mitch set to calming her just as he had his daughter. Clem stayed close, her fingers fisted in her father's shirt as he hugged Jamie tightly. She heard Mitch's soft apologies as he consoled her, peppered in between reassurances that he was really there and promises to never scare her like that again.

After a few moments they all settled, and the others came over to join the reunion. Clem lost hold of Mitch for a moment as he hugged each of his friends in turn, but he didn't stay gone long. Almost as soon as Abe released him he was at her side again, tucking her under his good arm. Jamie came up on his other side.

"How?" It was Jackson who finally voiced the question they were all thinking.

"Mansdale," Mitch said.

"Mansdale?" the others chorused in surprise.

"Yeah, he came busting in seconds after the -" he cut himself off and glanced down at Clem. "He saved me. They patched me up on the plane and I caught a ride with one of the transport trucks delivering supplies to the safe zone."

"What was he still doing on the island?" Abe wondered.

"Can we maybe talk about this later?" MItch glanced down at Clem. "Did you get the medicine?"

"Yeah," she nodded against his side. "I got it." She still had no idea what it was for, just that her dad had wanted her to have it. She hadn't felt bad in a long time, not since the new medicine she'd gotten last year. Her mom had said her Glazier's was gone forever, but Clem was skeptical. Still, this was the longest she'd ever gone without an incident and she was beginning to believe she could finally just be a normal kid.

"Dad?" She waited for his expectant hum before continuing. "Can we get out of here?"

She didn't know why it was funny, but both Mitch and Jamie burst into laughter at her request. "Sure, kiddo," he hugged her once before releasing her. "Let's go."

It took some doing to cram them all into the truck, but Clem was happy to sit on her dad's lap in the backseat with Jamie tucked between him and Dariela. Because of his injury Clem had to lean mostly on his left side, putting some of her weight on Jamie. The woman didn't seem to mind, even shifting a bit to allow the girl to nestle snugly in a small space between their shoulders. Henry had co-opted the back area, settling down happily on some old towels as he slept the entire ride.

When they reached the plane Clem expected them to park outside and walk to it. She let out a tiny squeak of surprise when Abe drove into the back like he'd done it a hundred times. She felt her dad squeeze her arm a bit in reassurance, but her excitement level had ramped up enough that she was very nearly bouncing in his lap as Abe shut the engine off.

"Easy, Clem," Mitch warning, his voice pinched with pain.

"Sorry." She slid out of the car when Jackson opened the door, moving around to let Henry out as well. She grabbed a hold of his leash and followed the group through a door into a small corridor that led to a laboratory. She didn't miss the way her father had grabbed Jamie's hand upon exiting the car or that he hadn't let her go since. She didn't know either of them very well, but they acted the same way around each other that her mom and Justin had, and so Clem was happy for them.

"Is this your workstation?" she ran her hand on the cool metal surface.

"Yeah."

"Actually," Jamie corrected, "this whole plane is his." Mitch whispered a protest, but she just shrugged. "It is. Allison gave it to you." He grumbled but accepted her reasoning.

"Cool!" Clem had been on a few planes in her life, but she'd never been on one quite like this. "Can I get a tour?"

"Sure," Mitch beckoned her to follow, Henry close on his heels. They left the others in the lab as her dad showed her the kitchen, the lounge and the living quarters. Here they left Henry curled up on Mitch's bed as they made their way up a spiral staircase to the cockpit. Mitch introduced her to Trotter, the pilot, and let her look at the myriad of buttons, switches and levers.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Clem?"

"Can I fly the plane?"

He laughed out loud and tucked her against him in an affectionate one-armed hug. "Maybe in ten years, after flight school. Come on."

She knew he was probably in pain; she'd noticed him trying not to limp as they made their way through the aircraft. She felt bad for asking him to take her around, and so didn't complain when he led her back to the lab.

The others were hunched around a computer screen when they arrived. They seemed different, more serious, and Clem protested when Mitch sat her down at a table far from them.

"Stay here," he told her firmly. He left her there and joined the others, speaking quietly in rushed, clipped sentences. Clem tried to listen in, but only caught fragments of the conversation.

Jackson was gesturing to whatever he'd found on his computer. "...neutralizer...protects the animals...all of mankind…"

Abe's voice was so rich and deep that Clem had no trouble hearing his answer. "Our child could be one of the last children born."

Clem tried to stifle a gasp of surprise and failed. When the adults looked over she pretended to be really interested in the nearest thing and not eavesdropping. Unfortunately for her, that thing ended up being an empty set of glass jars.

"Clementine," her father's warning floated across the lab and she turned with what she hoped was an innocent expression.

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

She shuffled over, fully expecting to be scolded for listening in on adult conversations (something her mother had told her she was _never_ to do). Instead, she was brought into a bone-crushing hug by her father.

"Dad?"

"I'm just...really glad you're okay," he had lowered his head to kiss the top of hers, and she burrowed against him comfortably.

"You need to rest, Mitch," Abe's gentle insistence cut through the moment and Mitch let her go.

"Alright, we'll...tackle this in the morning. Or whatever time we get up."

Clem followed her dad back to the living quarters, not at all surprised when Jamie fell into step beside them. Henry was excited at their return, though they'd only been gone for about thirty minutes.

"Alright," Clem laughed as the dog licked her cheek repeatedly. "I'm happy to see you, too, boy."

"Clem, you alright for a minute?" Mitch and Jamie were still standing in the doorway, and Clem nodded.

"Sure."

"Okay. I have some shirts in that drawer," he pointed toward the dresser on the opposite wall, "if you want something comfortable to sleep in. I'll be right back."

Clem sensed that he probably wanted a moment alone with Jamie, and while she couldn't help the stab of jealousy that hit her she pushed it down and smiled brightly. "Okay."

She washed her face and changed into the softest shirt she could find. It fell almost to her knees, so she took off her jeans and tossed them into the corner with her shirt. She definitely needed new clothes.

Curiosity got the better of her, and as quietly as she could she crept to the door and slid it open. She immediately wished she hadn't.

Her dad and Jamie were standing outside of another door kissing madly. They broke for a moment as Mitch whispered something, and Jamie smiled. Clem wrinkled her nose and ducked back inside before they could see her and scrambled for the bed. She liked that her dad was happy, but she really didn't want to think about it.

"Come on, Henry." She patted the blankets and smiled as the aging dog hopped up next to her. He laid down dutifully at her feet as she pulled the comforter over her. The lights were still on, but she was so suddenly tired that she couldn't keep her eyes open. She hadn't slept well since the attack, and that had been almost two days ago. She still missed her mom and Justin and their house in Boston, but she had a feeling she was going to love her new life with her dad and Jamie and all of his friends just as much.

* * *

A/N: We've reached the end of Season 2! I agonized over this chapter, vacillating back and forth between keeping the original ending or creating my own. I actually wrote two endings - one with his death and one without - and ultimately went with this one. I know that Season 3 is going to be...problematic at best, but I'm willing to work through it. Because let's be honest, the writers didn't think they'd get a third season and when they got the call they cobbled together whatever the hell they could think of in the span of like, four days.


	27. Interstices - Part 1

There is going to be quite a few chapters between S2 and S3 simply because of the AU nature of this story. I have labeled these chapters "Interstices" and they are in chronological order. I had intended for them to be short snippets, but my own plot bunnies got away from me and it's turning out to be its own little neat story. There is also fluff. Lots and lots of fluff. There will be some angst, as well, and we'll definitely get back on some sort of track for S3, but these people deserved a HEA and dammit I wanted to give them at least a part of it.

* * *

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Interstice: An intervening space; A small or narrow interval between parts.

Chapter 27: Interstices - Part 1

 _Jamie, Mitch and the others try to find their place while dealing with the aftermath of the cure and the sterilization of the human race._

* * *

Jamie didn't sleep much that night. She laid in her bed alone, curled on her side as her mind refused to quiet down. So much had happened that she could scarcely believe it was real. Mitch was alive. She had been on a roller coaster of emotions ever since Jackson had dragged her from the compound on Pangaea. Anger, grief, sorrow, anxiety, relief...it was enough to exhaust even the most stalwart of minds.

A soft knock on her door startled her, and she sat up with a quiet call to enter. The door slid away, allowing Mitch to step inside. He closed it behind him and crossed the small distance to sit on her bed. He'd left her a few hours before to be with his daughter but he'd promised to come back when she was asleep.

"Hey." The blankets pooled in her lap as she slid back to rest against the pillows. "How's Clem?"

"She's good," Mitch smiled as he limped slowly to the bed and lowered himself down gingerly. "She's been through so much - too much. It'll take some time, but she'll be okay." He paused a beat, then caught her gaze with his own. "How are you?"

"Processing," she told him honestly. "I…" She didn't really know the answer to his question; she was still experiencing too many emotions to properly describe her state of mind to him. She could, however, tell him one thing. "I'm still mad at you."

"I know." He reached for her hand anyway, and she couldn't help but latch on. She felt her breath hitch as he lifted her knuckles to his lips, letting them linger on her skin for a long moment. "And I'm sorry for the pain it caused, but I would do it again. If it meant saving Clem, saving you...I wouldn't hesitate."

"I know." She didn't reclaim her hand, and she saw the small smile that tugged at his lips as he ran his thumb gently across her fingers.

"I have a question for you," he said after a few moments. "And you can say no, if you feel like it's too much." Jamie felt her heart pounding furiously in her chest in anticipation of his next words. They'd been through so much, and though they'd had a few conversations about their future, they'd always been so focused on their mission to really make any concrete plans. But he sounded so serious now, so hopeful, and Jamie had to remind herself to breathe as she encouraged him to continue.

"Okay…"

He met her gaze firmly, his fingers tightening around hers. "Would you change my bandages?"

It hadn't been as bad as she'd imagined, but it was still pretty gruesome. Mitch walked her through the worst of it, from how to peel away the old gauze to how tight to wrap the large bandage around his midsection. Someone had stitched up the three long gashes in his right side, dangerously close to his kidney. The one on his brow was shallower, and she replaced the butterfly bandage there last.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "It's not so bad with the drugs, though. There's a bottle of painkillers on my dresser with my name on it."

"Well, until then…" She gently grasped either side of his face and pulled him down to press her lips against the bandage. It was something her aunt has always done whenever one of them had come home with any kind of injury. Even the major ones had earned a kiss on the head, and without fail the pain had subsided.

"Much better," he smiled. "Thanks." He packed the first aid kit away and stood. "I have to get back to Clem. I'm sorry I can't…" he gestured to her bed awkwardly.

Jamie just shook her head. "No, it's fine. You need to be with your daughter. I understand. Just...don't disappear, okay? I swear to God, if I wake up tomorrow and find out this was all a dream…"

He surged forward and kissed her, heedless of the injuries that were undoubtedly causing him a significant amount of pain. "I promise it's not a dream. I'll see you tomorrow." He kissed her once more. "I love you."

Jamie hadn't been sure she'd ever hear those words from him again. Hearing them now brought tears to her eyes. "I love you, too."

She finally let him go - if she didn't do it now, he'd never leave. Once he was gone she laid back down, and this time sleep came much more easily.

Jackson, Dariela and Abe were gathered in the kitchen the next morning when she arrived. Logan had apparently disappeared some time in the night, but Jamie didn't have it in her to care. He'd come through by finding Clem, but as far as Jamie was concerned he'd repaid the debt he owed by betraying them to Davies in the first place. She hoped he found something in this new world that made him happy, but she had a feeling they would never see him again.

The news was already reporting the success of the cure, and all around the world people were celebrating. Jamie knew their lives were about to get very, very busy. Mitch would likely be contacted by every major science journal and publication in regards to the cure, and the others would be interviewed by the government and press alike. It was going to be a PR nightmare.

Jamie grabbed a banana from the bowl on the counter and slid into the chair next to Jackson. He smiled at her warmly and bid her a good morning.

"Where's Mitch?" He hadn't been in his room when she'd finally dragged herself from bed (she'd checked) and Clem was missing as well. She had a very brief flash of fear that it really _had_ all been a dream, but the contented faces of her friends - as well as the rather excited pup begging for breakfast scraps at Dariela's feet - told her otherwise.

"In the conference room, talking to Allison. Apparently she's arranging for him to speak at some big meeting in Washington next week."

"Bet he loves that," Jamie laughed. Mitch hated formal functions, but she had a feeling he'd been wearing more than his fair share of ties before this whole thing settled down. "And Clem?"

"Getting a flying lesson from Trotter," Abe answered. "She begged Mitch this morning until he relented."

Jamie nodded thoughtfully and munched on her banana. Mitch had quite a bit of paternal guilt where Clementine was concerned; it would be easy enough for Clem to take advantage of it to get anything she wanted. She seemed like a good kid, though, and a lesson in flying wasn't the worst thing she could ask for.

"So what's next for you guys?"

Jackson glanced at Abe before answering. "I'm not sure. We talked about going back to Botswana, but now…"

He didn't have to finish his sentence; Jamie knew what he meant. The entire world would soon learn the effects of the TX-14 gas. Every scientist on the planet would be put to work to solve the problem. The notes they had gotten from Pangaea would be critical in beginning to crack the mystery, but it would likely be a marathon rather than a sprint. It was going to take time.

Jamie finished her fruit and tossed the peel in the trash. "If no one has any objections, I'd like to go to California. Mitch's mom is in a safe zone there. Then we can all go to my aunt and uncle's house in Louisiana for a while. I think we've earned a break, don't you?"

"Sounds good to me," Dariela agreed. "It'll be nice to sleep under a real roof."

"Great, I'll go tell Trotter."

She found him standing just behind the pilot's chair pointing at something on the console. Clem was sitting in the plush chair completely focused on the instructions. Jamie let them go for a moment, unwilling to interrupt Clem's obvious delight as she soaked in the information. She was a lot like her dad, Jamie noticed, though she looked nothing like him. Except that smile. The slight pull at the corner of her lips as she worked through the steps for take off reminded Jamie of a certain scientist performing a complex procedure.

Finally the lesson was over and Jamie cleared her throat quietly. Trotter looked up with a guilty look, but Jamie just smiled. "Having fun?"

"Trotter's just showing me how to fly," Clem said shortly. She seemed almost distant, not at all like the sweet girl Jamie had consoled just yesterday.

Jamie tried not to take offense - the girl had been through so much in the past few days, she was likely still processing it all. "Okay, well maybe Trotter can show you how to make a flight plan."

The graying pilot nodded knowingly. "Where to?"

"California," Jamie said. "Safe Zone Four near Sacramento."

"I'll grab the coordinates from the computer," he told her. "We'll be airborne just as soon as I can do a pre-flight."

Jamie nodded her thanks. "I'll go tell the others."

She warned the group in the kitchen of their impending take off before moving through the lab to the conference room. Mitch's sharp tenor floated through the door as he lost whatever argument he was having with Allison.

"Fine," he barked. "Just figure it out and tell me where you need me to be." Jamie pushed the door open just as Allison's image winked out and Mitch turned. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. How you feeling?"

"Like I got mauled by hybrids," he joked flatly. He must have seen on her face the pain his words caused because he reached out almost immediately. She slipped her hand in his and moved to stand close enough she could feel the warmth radiating from him. "Sorry," he kissed her head. "Are those the engines warming up?"

"Yeah. We're wheels up for California soon. Trotter is showing Clem how to log a flight plan."

Mitch smiled and lifted his good arm around her shoulders. "Any idea what flight school costs? Wait, California?"

"I figured we'd go get your mom, then head back to Louisiana. Unless you don't want to…"

"No. I mean, yes that's fine. I just...you're amazing. Thank you."

She lifted up to her toes to kiss him. "You're welcome. I'm gonna go call Aunt Fran and let her know about the impending invasion." At Mitch's look she clarified. "Jackson, Abe and Dariela are coming with us."

"That'll be fun."

She ignored his dry remarks and retreated to her room to call her aunt. It wasn't quite as tearful as the last conversation, but Jamie was glad to hear that her family had survived the gas drop unscathed. She'd been a little afraid that one or more of them would have the ghost gene, but the odds had been in their favor and the only life claimed by the animal rebellion had been her cousin, Stephen. With plans set and goodbyes said, Jamie slipped her phone into her pocket and moved to the nearest seat to buckle in for take off.

Trotter came over the comms a few minutes later. "It'll be three hours to Sacramento, folks. Skies look clear, so it should be smooth sailing."

Jamie unbuckled and went looking for Mitch. He needed to rest, and she knew he wouldn't unless someone made him. She made a beeline for the lab, unsurprised to find him hunched over keyboard trying to type.

"Need a hand?" she rested her hip against the table a few feet from him. "Or two?"

He gave her a rueful smile. "I'm trying to document, well, everything. Organize my thoughts. It's a little slow going with one hand."

Jamie looked up at the screen where he'd managed a few sentences. "You spelled 'synthetic' wrong."

"Cheeky."

"Seriously, though. Want some help?"

He rolled back and stood, gesturing with his good hand. "How are you at taking dictation?"

She took his place and slid up to the keyboard. "I've always wanted to be someone's amanuensis."

Mitch's answering grin was equal parts teasing and wicked. "Well, we can talk about that later. Right now I just need you to type what I say."

Two hours of typing proved too much even for Jamie's experienced fingers. After the third time she had to massage out a cramp, Mitch called it quits.

"We'll be landing soon," he reasoned. "I should probably find out where Clem wandered off to."

"She's probably flying the plane right now," Jamie joked as she stood and stretched. "Trotter's a pushover."

"Should I have a talk with him?" Jamie came up on his good side and smiled as he draped his arm around her shoulder.

"Maybe," she played along. "He did seem smitten."

Clem was in the kitchen scrounging for a snack when they entered. Mitch stepped away from Jamie and moved to help her reach a box of vanilla wafers from the cupboard. "Hey sweetie."

"Hi."

Jamie noticed the quick side glance Clem gave her as she opened the box and unclipped the plastic bag inside. Mitch, however, seemed oblivious to it as he grabbed a bottle of water for himself and one for Jamie.

"I heard Trotter's been showing you some stuff," he began lamely. Clem just shrugged. "Have you been up there with him the whole time?"

"Not the whole time," Clem munched on a cookie. "I went down to the lab looking for you, but you seemed busy so I came up here instead."

"We were just typing up some notes on the cure," Mitch explained as he reached across the island to hand Jamie her water. "Did you need something?"

"No."

"Okay," Mitch leaned back against the counter. "Well, did you have fun with Trotter?" Clem shrugged again. "Clem, I-"

"I need to check on Henry," Clem dropped the still-open box of cookies onto the counter and left quickly, leaving a flustered Mitch in her wake.

He shifted his weight forward to follow her, but Jamie held up her hand. "Can I talk to her? I think I might know what this is about."

"What?"

"I'd like to talk to Clem about it first, if you don't mind." When Mitch gestured grandly, she moved around the island to give him a quick kiss. "It'll be okay." He looked skeptical - and maybe a little fearful - and Jamie had to remind herself that he'd just become a single father rather quickly and was likely still adjusting. She left him standing alone in the kitchen and went in search of the girl.

Clem was curled up on Mitch's bed with Henry's head lying across her feet. Jamie knocked softly even as she slid the half-open door back to step inside. "Hey, Clem. Can we talk for a sec?"

The sour expression on her face confirmed Jamie's suspicions. Still, she sat up and shrugged a shoulder noncommittally. "About what?"

Jamie posted up against the dresser to give the girl some space, at least until Jamie could get a feel for where Clem's head was. "Whatever's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me."

"There is," Jamie pressed, "but I don't want to force you to talk about it if you don't want to. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here if you ever do want to talk. I know what you're going through right now."

"No you don't," Clem argued.

"I do. My mom died when I was about your age."

That got her attention, and the crease on her brow soften a little as her curiosity edged out the anger Jamie could see in her eyes. "She did?"

"Yeah," Jamie pushed off the dresser and moved a bit closer. "Cancer. And then my dad left right after she died. I felt so alone, and angry. I remember lashing out at my aunt and uncle all the time because being angry was easier than being sad." Clem looked like she understood the sentiment. "You've gone through a lot, sweetie, and it's okay for you to be upset. We know it's a big adjustment. I just want you to know that your dad loves you _so_ much. You're the most important person in the world to him."

At this, Clem looked up with the same doubtful expression Mitch had given her just minutes ago. Jamie suppressed the urge to smile and urged the girl to say whatever was on her mind.

Clem swallowed and looked down at the blanket under her, picking at an invisible thread as she spoke. "More important than you?"

Jamie closed the remaining distance and sat down on the edge of the bed. There was still a couple of feet of space between them, but Jamie left it there. It would be Clementine's decision to let her get closer, both physically and emotionally, but Jamie wanted to be able to speak face to face with the girl.

"Hey." She waited until Clem looked up and resisted the urge to soothe away the tears she saw gathering in the girl's eyes. "Can I ask you a question?" A quick nod. "When your mom married Justin, did she love you any less?"

"No."

"It's the same with your dad. We love each other, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love you."

"Are you gonna get married?"

It was a blunt question, one Jamie had expected when she started the topic. But despite the few brief conversations they'd had, Jamie had never really given much thought to the future. With the world ending and animals trying to kill them at every juncture, it was hard to imagine any farther than a few days ahead. But as Clem voiced the the question aloud, she knew the answer as sure as she knew her own name.

"Yeah, we are. But it's not gonna happen tomorrow, okay? We all need some time to adjust to everything." Clem nodded, and Jamie was happy to see most of the coldness in her eyes fade away. "In the meantime, would it be okay for you and me to get to know each other better?"

That dubious look was back. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know your dad pretty well. I'd like to get to know you, too." Jamie reached out to scratch Henry behind his ears, smiling when he whined in appreciation.

Clem smiled, too, and her fingers sifted through his golden fur lovingly. "Okay."

"Okay." Jamie stood up, not wanting to push too hard, too fast. She was halfway out the door when Clem's voice stopped her.

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

She was back to being shy. "Can you...could you tell me about my dad, too? Since you know him, and all?"

Jamie smiled and stepped back inside, this time sliding the door closed. "Of course." She sat back on the bed. "What would you like to know?"

"Anything," Clem said. "I mean...I used to pretend that Henry would go see him every night after I went to sleep. He'd let Dad know how I was, and then he'd come back and tell me stuff about him. Just made up stuff," she continued almost timidly. "Like, he invented chocolate milk."

Jamie laughed softly. "Well, he didn't invent it. But he likes it. And he likes pickles and coffee." At Clem's disgusted look she clarified. "Not together."

"What else?"

"Well, loves Soundgarden. They're a band, or they were. Maybe they still are, I don't know. And he _loves_ crossword puzzles. All puzzles, really." Jamie felt her smile soften as she thought about Mitch's enthusiasm when faced with a good mystery and didn't bother hiding it from Clem's scrutinizing stare. "He's really, really, smart. And funny, but don't tell him I told you." They shared a conspiratorial smile, and finally Jamie felt like they were on good footing again.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Jamie glanced back at Henry, giving him one more gentle pat on the head. "I'm sure Henry needs to run around for a bit. When we land maybe Abe and Dariela can take you and Henry outside, and I'll see what we can do about getting him some food."

The intercom crackled to life on the wall as Trotter announced they would be landing soon. Clem scrambled off the bed and dashed for the door, eager to watch the landing procedures from the best view on the plane. Jamie laughed and followed, stopping only when she caught a shadow lurking just beyond the hall.

"Mitch," she called him out and waited until he slinked around the corner. "Were you listening in on our private conversation?"

"You mean the one you were having in _my_ room?" he answered cheekily.

Jamie just crossed her arms over her chest. "Mitch."

"I'm sorry," he held out his hands to stave off an argument. "If it helps, I only heard the last part."

Jamie just rolled her eyes and stalked past him. The nearest jump seats were in the hall next to the lounge, and Mitch followed her quickly as the plane dipped slightly. He seemed to sense her irritation with him and wisely stayed silent as they buckled in. Jamie's stomach flipped as they began to descend, and she unconsciously tightened her straps a bit more. Mitch braved her ire and reached for her hand, and Jamie practically felt him sigh in relief as she allowed it.

"So," he said after a long while. "You think I'm funny?"


	28. Interstices - Part 2

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 28: Interstices - Part Two

 _The team flies to California to find Mitch's mom. Family fluff ensues._

* * *

Safe Zone Four was in complete and total chaos when he walked through the front doors. Dozens of people were clamoring to speak, all demanding information or shouting into their cell phones to be heard above the din. Apparently news of the cure had spurred a mass exodus from the thousands of people living inside the zone's gates, but many people had nowhere to go. Los Angeles was still under martial law, along with dozens of other major cities across the country. Sacramento, San Diego and San Francisco had all remained relatively unscathed, though looting and general panic meant they were still unsafe to live in for the time being.

Mitch turned sideways to slip between two people, wincing as his bad arm was jostled slightly in the crowd. He was beginning to regret not having Abe come along; he could have cleared a path easily. Instead he'd accepted Dariela's offer to accompany him. Her knowledge of military protocol and government red tape would likely be useful in getting to his mom as quickly as possible. Jamie had volunteered to stay behind with Clem, and there had been something in her tone that told Mitch there was more to her request than altruism.

He'd fibbed a little when Jamie had asked him earlier - he'd heard most of the conversation she'd had with his daughter. Just knowing Clem felt like he would love her less just because of his relationship with Jamie...it broke his heart. But Jamie had proved once again that she was far better than he was at dealing with other people's emotions, and Mitch smiled as he remembered the rest of the conversation.

"I'm not sure what's so funny about this, professor," Dariela grumbled as she shouldered past another small group of people. "Do you see anyone who looks like they could be in charge?"

Mitch craned his neck up, ignoring the twinge of pain that shot through his chest, and frowned. "No. I don't see any uniforms."

"Alright," she stopped and glanced around. "Time for Plan B." She snagged a chair just as a young man stood up to greet someone and slid it toward her. Even standing on it she was barely above head height, but then she straightened her back and projected her voice above the noise. "Excuse me! Can I have your attention, please!" She had a note of authority that made almost everyone in the immediate vicinity stop what they were doing and turn. The effect rippled through the gathered crowd, and soon she had hundreds of expectant eyes on her. "Thank you," she said in the same official tone. "Now, I know all of you are waiting for information about what's going on out there and you want to see your families. I can assure you that the people in charge are doing the best they can to get to everyone as quickly as possible."

"Is it true?" One man shouted from near the back. "Are the animals cured?" The news had reported it, but apparently skepticism was high among most of the population.

"Yes," Dariela nodded, and an excited murmur rose from the crowd. "But there are still procedures to be followed, checks that need to be done to make sure it's safe for you to return to your homes. So if everyone could be patient, things will run a whole lot smoother."

Mitch was impressed with her command of the situation, but that still didn't help them find his mother. He cleared his throat pointedly and Dariela seemed to remember why she'd jumped up on the chair in the first place.

"Now, I'm looking for a woman who's here at the safe zone. Her name is…" she glanced down at Mitch, who whispered the name quickly, "Dianne Morgan. Does anyone know Dianne?"

"I do," an older gentleman raised his hand. "I saw her this morning at breakfast."

"Great," Dariela hopped down off the chair and made her way over to him with Mitch on her heels. "Do you know where I can find her?"

Mitch probably should have guessed it. His mother had always had a green thumb, and gardening had been a hobby of hers long before the animals had gone crazy. It made sense that she'd spend most of her days tending to the safe zone's small courtyard garden, safely enclosed in the center of the facility. Artificial lamps gave the space a greenhouse feel, and Mitch could feel himself start to sweat the moment he stepped through the door. Dariela had opted to remain indoors, both for her own comfort and to give Mitch and his mom a moment of privacy.

She was sitting in a rocking chair on the far side of the garden, her head angled down to read the book that was splayed open in her lap. Mitch froze for a moment as he caught sight of her. It had been over two years since he'd seen her, not counting the video message Jamie had recorded. She looked just like he remembered, though there was more gray in her hair than blonde. She had the same wire-framed glasses attached to a chain around her neck, though they sat a bit lower on her nose now as she read. She wore dirt-streaked jeans and an old, gray t-shirt that Mitch recognized as one of her school spirit shirts from the high school in Alabama. The Blue Devils logo on the front was worn and faded from time and many washes, but Mitch knew it well.

Finally, he couldn't stand the silence anymore. "Hi, Mom."

Dianne Morgan glanced up sharply as Mitch walked over, and he saw every single emotion play out on her face as she processed what she was seeing - shock, disbelief, and finally joy. Her book tumbled to the ground as she scrambled to her feet, and Mitch closed the last of the distance between them to wrap his good arm around her. His ribs protested her tight hug but he didn't care.

"Mitch! Oh, Mitch, you're _here_." Her chin had lifted over his shoulder as she hugged him, and even though he was taller by almost half a foot, Mitch couldn't help but feel like a little boy again in the arms of his mother. He could hear the tears in her voice as she exclaimed again, and when Mitch felt his own stinging his eyes he didn't bother trying to fight them.

"Yeah, Mom," he whispered into her hair, "I'm here. I'm here."

Dianne finally seemed to hear the pain he was trying to hide, and she pulled back to inspect his injuries. Most of them were hidden by his clothes, but the sling on his right arm was hard to miss. "What happened?"

"I got attacked by animals," he told her simply. "But I'm alright, Mom. I promise."

"Attacked?" she repeated. "Mitch, what's going on?"

"It's over, Mom." Mitch smiled down at her, accepting her fussy movements as she adjusted his sling and inspected the bandage on his forehead. "The animals are cured."

Her smile was brighter than the sun, and there was no missing the pride in her tone as she spoke. "You did it."

"Well, not just me. I mean, I have a team. They helped." Mitch winced at how that sounded, then amended, "I mean, I couldn't have done it without them."

"Mitch, have you made actual friends?" She was teasing - he could hear it in her voice - but the very real surprise that accompanied it made him roll his eyes.

"Yes, Mom. I have friends. Don't look so shocked."

Dianne smiled again and pulled him back in for a hug. "I'm just teasing, Mitch. Oh, I've been so worried about you."

"I know," he returned her embrace gently, and Dianne seemed to remember he was hurt. She stepped back as he continued. "I got your message."

"Oh," Dianne startled as if she'd just remembered something important. "How is Jamie? I was so glad to see she survived the crash."

"Me, too, Mom." It was an understatement, but there was no way he was going to give his mom all of the awful details. He wasn't terribly proud of how he'd handled everything last year, and now that Jamie was back where she belonged he was happy to just forget that part of his life altogether. "She's good," he answered her question with a smile, which prompted another teasing grin from his mother. "She's with Clem right now."

At the mention of her only granddaughter, Dianne Morgan reached out to squeeze Mitch's hand. "Clementine? Why is she here?"

"Audra and Justin…" he trailed off, unsure how to say it. He swallowed and shook his head sadly. "They didn't make it."

"Oh, that poor girl. And her illness?"

"Gone," Mitch said, his voice morphing from sorrow to happiness in an instant. "She took medication from an experimental trial that completely eradicated it. She's cured."

"That's amazing! Oh, I haven't seen her since she was a baby."

"Well, if you want to go get your things, we can get you out of here so you can see her and meet the others." He turned to steer her toward the door, eager to get back to the others. Once inside, he introduced her to Dariela.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Morgan," Dariela greeted politely.

"You as well, dear. Thank you for looking out for my son. He tends to get himself into all kinds of trouble when left on his own."

"Standing right here," Mitch sighed. She was already ganging up on him with Dariela - he didn't even want to imagine how it going to be with Jamie.

"I'll go get my things and meet you out front."

It took her almost fifteen minutes, but Mitch wasn't surprised when she emerged from the doors with only a small duffel bag. Dianne Morgan had never been accused of being high maintenance.

"That it?" Dariela asked. Dianne nodded and tossed her bag into the backseat of the Hummer before climbing in. Mitch was driving, leaving the two women to chat about whatever as he tried to remember the way back to the plane.

"You live on the plane?" Dianne exclaimed. "Well, I suppose that makes sense. Who pays for the fuel?"

"The government," Mitch answered quickly before Dariela could drop Allison's name. His mother had disliked Allison from the beginning (which, honestly, should have been a big clue), but ever since the debacle at the gala and her subsequent marriage to Max, Allison's name was taboo in Dianne's presence. He was not looking forward to telling his mother about her involvement or how he was still going to have to deal with her in the near future as things gradually settled down.

Dariela got the hint and changed the subject, moving to their plans to fly to Louisiana as soon as possible.

Dianne seemed surprised. "Jamie's family doesn't mind all of us dropping in and staying for a while?"

"Nah," Mitch glanced at her in the rearview briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "Her aunt will love the company. The house is certainly big enough for all of us." He realized his mistake a second too late.

"And how would you know that?" Dianne asked knowingly.

"Mom," Mitch's exasperation was evident, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dariela trying and failing to hide a smile. "Stop that."

"What?" Dariela shrugged innocently.

"I'm beginning to think this was a bad idea," he grumbled as he pulled onto the small road that led to the airfield. As they approached the plane he could see several figures running around in the green field about fifty meters from the plane. Henry was bounding between them as they tossed a ball, and as they neared Mitch easily made out the forms of his daughter and Jamie. Jackson and Abe were there as well, their hawk-like gazes masked behind their casual postures and quiet conversation. Mitch was glad to see the tranquilizer rifle slung over Jackson's back, though he didn't think it was necessary. Still, the extra level of protection was appreciated. It had been about two days since the cure was released; there was no telling how many animals were still uncured.

Jamie and Clem's game came to a halt as Mitch parked the Hummer in the vehicle bay. Henry barked eagerly, ready to play, but nobody responded. Mitch opened the back door for his mother, helping her down out of the large vehicle and onto the metal floor.

"Mitch, this is amazing," she breathed.

"Yeah, I'll give you the full tour later," he promised. "Come on." He grabbed her hand with his free one and pulled her out of the bay and onto the tarmac. Clem had moved to stand next to Jamie, her face a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as the woman wrapped an arm over her shoulders and urged her forward.

The others moved back into the plane to give them a moment, and Mitch was grateful. He seemed to realize introductions would fall on him, and he was ready when they finally all stood within arm's reach.

"Mom, this is Clem. And you know Jamie."

"Of course." Dianne seemed to sense her granddaughter's uneasiness and reached for Jamie first. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"You, too," Jamie returned her hug warmly. "I'm glad you're safe."

"And you as well, dear." Dianne looked down at Clem with a bright smile. "The last time I saw you, you weren't even knee high to a grasshopper. You've grown into a beautiful young woman."

Mitch could tell Clem was still a bit apprehensive and didn't miss the way she leaned toward Jamie just a bit. He was happy that they were getting on, but he had hoped for a bit of a warmer reception.

"Clem?"

"Yeah, sorry." She blinked once, shook her head, and smiled. "It's nice to meet you. Again," she added with a laugh. "My mom's parents died when I was a baby, so I never knew any of my grandparents before."

"Well, now you do," Dianne held out her arms in invitation, and Clem moved into the hug with only the slightest moment of hesitation. They stood there for a few long seconds, and Mitch could see the happiness on his mother's face as she basked in the reunion. Jamie came up on his good side and he smiled down at her briefly.

"Hey," he said finally, "I know Clem knows her way around the plane now. She could give you the tour."

"That would be wonderful," Dianne kept one arm around Clem's shoulders as they made their way back to the plane. By the time they made it through the sliding door and into the lab, Clem was already chatting a mile a minute about everything she'd learned from Trotter and how he'd let her mess with the controls once they were safely on the ground.

Mitch watched as his mother and his daughter disappeared around a corner, not even noticing when Jamie stopped just beyond his peripheral vision. Finally he felt her eyes on him, and when he turned toward her she was grinning.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. "Happy looks good on you."

"Yeah?" He pulled her in and kissed her quickly. "Feels good." Mitch wasn't sure he'd ever felt this level of... _contentment_ \- not since Clem was born. "How long before we're off to Louisiana?"

"Not sure," Jamie shrugged. "Trotter mentioned we needed to refuel again. He called Allison and set up a delivery for later today, so we have to wait at least until then. By the time we can take off it might be late, and Louisiana's two hours ahead of California. We should probably just wait until tomorrow morning so we don't arrive in the middle of the night."

"Sounds good."

"How are you holding up?" Jamie asked. "Do you need your bandages changed?"

"No, but I'm about ready to toss this sling," he lifted his injured arm away from his body.

"Mitch, you shouldn't do that."

"It's fine," he told her. "It was just a subluxation. I take it off at night anyway." He reached around to unsnap it, and his shoulder throbbed as he straightened his arm. Jamie frowned but didn't say anything as he tested his mobility. It hurt, but he could deal with it if it meant he didn't have to wear the sling.

"Stubborn," Jamie muttered under her breath, though he was close enough to hear it.

"I'm fairly certain this is a pot and kettle situation here," he fired back. "Besides, being stubborn isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"Okay," Jamie folded the sling carefully, then tossed it onto the nearest work table. "I'll remind you of that when Clem is a teenager and you're complaining to me about it."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the arrival of his daughter and his mother cut off whatever he was about to say. He folded his arms across his chest both to support his injured arm and to keep his mother from seeing that he'd taken off the sling, but it was no use.

"Mitch," Dianne scolded gently, "put your sling back on."

"Mom, I'm fine," he turned and made a show of letting his arms fall to his side. "It was just a precaution, but it's okay. It wasn't a full dislocation."

Dianne pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You get that from your father, you know."

Mitch almost put the sling back on. "Mom, I'm okay. Honest. Did Clem show you around?"

"She did. And she introduced me to your friends."

"Great," Mitch rubbed his hands together. "We have to refuel, so we won't be taking off until tomorrow morning."  
"Hey, Mitch," Jackson appeared at the top of the stairs, "Allison's on the phone. Says she needs to talk to you."

Mitch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he answered. "Tell her I'll be right there." He could feel his mother's cold stare, but he waited for Jackson to leave before he looked up at her.

"Allison?" she asked flatly. "As in Allison Shaw?"

"Mom, listen -"

She held up a hand sharply and he shut his mouth. He waited for the smart remark from Jamie, but it never came. When he snuck a glance, she was rather pointedly staring anywhere but his face. Mitch sighed heavily and pushed off the work table.

"I'll be right back. Jamie, could you find a room for my mom?"

"Sure."

He left them alone in the lab and made his way to the conference room. Allison's image was larger than life on the screen and Mitch didn't bother hiding his irritation as he greeted her with barely more than a hello..

"Wow, for someone who just saved the world, you're being awfully grumpy."

"Save it," he snapped. "What do you need?"

"You," she said simply. "The President is calling for a briefing on the cure, and you're the guest of honor. I need you in Washington by Friday."

"That two days," he shook his head. "I can't brief the President in two days."

"You said, and I quote, 'Just figure it out and tell me where you need me to be.' Well I'm telling you I need you in Washington in two days."

"We're in California right now, and tomorrow we're going to Louisiana."

"I know, Trotter told me. At some point I'm going to have to explain the fuel costs in a report. You can't just gallivant around the country for no reason."

Mitch was growing more annoyed by the moment, and he didn't bother hiding it. "We came to get my mother, and we're going to Jamie's family's farm tomorrow. Then you can have your stupid plane back."

"Sure," Allison kept her tone light and neutral, and Mitch could tell by the look on her face she was doing it purposefully to piss him off. "You can bring it back to me Friday, when you come brief the President."

"Fine!" Mitch raised his hands in defeat, forgetting about his shoulder for a moment. He winced and lowered it back down, along with his voice. "Fine, I'll come out there, brief the President and then go back to Louisiana. And you can have your plane back."

"Technically, it's your plane," Allison smiled disarmingly. "I just paid for the fuel."

Mitch felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth in an effort to keep from spitting out all of the nasty remarks that were swimming around his brain. "Anything else?"

"No, that's it. For now. See you Friday." She reached out and disconnected the call, leaving Mitch seething in the conference room. He stayed in there a few more moments to calm down. He knew he was going to have to talk to his mom, explain the situation, but he wasn't looking forward to it. Instead he sank into one of the plush chairs bolted to the floor around the table and put his head in his hands.

"Mitch?" It was Jamie. She knocked once and opened the door. "You alright?"

He sat up straight and tried to smile, though it probably came out closer to a grimace. "Yeah, peachy. Allison needs me in D.C. on Friday to brief the President."

"Wow." She slipped into the room and sat in the chair next to his. "The President?"

"Yeah. How's Mom?"

"She really doesn't like Allison," Jamie said. "As soon as Clem was gone she gave me an earful about 'that woman.' Don't worry," she added quickly, "I didn't tell her about Allison's involvement in the last few months."

"Could you? Because I don't want to."

Jamie ignored his pathetic plea and sat back. "I put her in Dariela's old room, now that she's staying with Abe."

"Thanks." They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Mitch took a moment to collect his thoughts. So much had happened in the past couple of days that he hadn't had time to really process it all. He'd been looking forward to spending some time in Folsom just relaxing and trying to make sense of everything, but of course Allison had come along and derailed his plans. Again. A weary sigh escaped him, and Jamie shifted in her seat.

"So what's the plan?"

"For you? The same as it was. We're flying to Louisiana tomorrow to drop all of you off, then I have to fly to Washington."

"I can come with you, if you want?" Her tone lifted at the end, as though she wasn't quite sure if he wanted her to tag along.

He did, but he shook his head anyway. "You should be with your family."

Jamie leaned forward in her seat, and Mitch was captivated by the intensity of her stare as she laid her hand on his forearm. "You are my family." Her fingers were cool on his arm, and as he covered her hand with his they shared a smile.

"It'll only be a day," he told her, "and your aunt and uncle have been looking forward to seeing you. You should go home."

"Alright," she squeezed his arm and stood. "Come on," she tugged on his arm until he rose to his feet next to her. "Apparently we're having an early dinner and telling your mom and Clem the story of the Beast Rebellion from day one."

"Oh, that'll be fun." Mitch rolled his eyes but followed dutifully, his mind already sifting through the last fifteen months and figuring out which pieces to leave out.

The others were already gathered in the kitchen, chatting and laughing as they prepared a meal from their meager stores of food. Even Trotter had joined them, tucked against the far wall with Clem and Jackson as he regaled them with a story from his flight school days. Dariela and Dianne were behind the island plating food as Abe ferried the full plates to the lounge next door. It was the only place that would accommodate everyone now that there were eight of them. Jamie left his side to help Abe, but not before commanding Mitch to go sit down.

He grumbled something about not being an invalid, but ducked his head after his mother shot him a stern look. He ignored the gleeful smirks the others sported as he obeyed, slipping into a chair as Jamie set a plate at his spot. She kissed him quickly, then went for drinks as the others shuffled in to take their seats. Clem scrambled to sit next to him, and his mother smiled as she passed up the empty chair on his left and instead move to sit next to her granddaughter.

As dinner began and Jackson kicked off their tale, Mitch marveled at how right this felt. He reached under the table for Jamie's hand, picking it up from her lap to set their joined hands in his. She squeezed his fingers firmly but didn't take her eyes off of Jackson and Abe as they told everyone about their adventure in Botswana. She had been right - this was their family and there was nowhere Mitch would rather be.


	29. Interstices - Part 3

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 29: Interstices - Part Three

 _Jamie and the others get settled in at her childhood home while Mitch is away in D.C._

* * *

They had to take both vehicles from the bay to accommodate all of them, and Jamie offered to drive the lead car both to guide the way and to make sure she was the first to get a glimpse of her family farm. It had been so long since she'd been home - well over a year and half - and though it was by no means the longest she'd been away, driving the familiar streets of Folsom felt more like a homecoming than ever before. She'd called her aunt just before they left the St. Tammany Regional Airport, and Fran had promised to have a big southern breakfast laid out by the time they arrived.

Jamie very nearly broke down into tears as they crossed the city limit sign, and again when she caught sight of the broken gate at the end of the road. She signaled to let Abe know in the Hummer behind her that they were turning off the main road, and she slowed just enough to take the turn safely.

It was beautiful. The two story farmhouse rose from behind a hill, the front awash in splashes of orange and yellow as the sun rose over the treetops. Several cars were parked along the side of the house, and though Jamie didn't recognize any of them she knew that Reese and Charlie were there. It would be a tight fit for all of them, especially with Jamie bringing five people with her, but Fran had said they would make it work.

She hadn't even stopped fully before the front door burst open and her family came spilling out. Jamie threw the car in park and jumped out, not even bothering to turn the engine off. She met them all halfway in a tangled heap of limbs and tears, the sobs of her aunt muffled by Jamie's delighted laughter and the shouts of her uncle and cousins.

It was a long while before they began to separate. Jamie saw her friends standing a respectful distance away, content to let her reunite with her family before intruding on the moment. Jamie loved them all the more for it and waved them over eagerly.

"Aunt Fran, Uncle Bo, this is Jackson, Abe, Dariela, Clem and Dianne," she introduced them one at a time. "Guys, this is my family."

Pleasantries and welcomes made the rounds before they all started back toward the house. Fran had an arm wrapped around Jamie's shoulder, and she guessed it would be a while before her aunt let her out of her sight.

"It's a shame Mitch couldn't stay," she said.

"He'll be back soon," Jamie promised. "Hopefully the briefing won't last too long and he'll be able to fly back out tomorrow." Jamie followed her aunt into her childhood home, and for a moment she was struck by another wave of emotion. She paused just inside the door to soak it in. The others waited patiently, but soon the aroma of a freshly cooked breakfast wafted through the house and Jamie's stomach urged her forward.

"We don't have any bacon or sausage," Fran was saying as they all filed into the kitchen, "but we've got biscuits and gravy, pancakes, crepes and eggs."

Jamie smiled at the familiar scene - her aunt was ready at a moment's notice to feed an army at three in the morning if that's when they arrived. Dariela and Jackson made a beeline for the table, dragging Abe and Clem along with them as Fran began bustling about. Dianne offered to help but was shooed away gently to join the others at the feast. Jamie felt a heavy arm settle over her shoulders, and she leaned into her uncle's hug with a grin.

"Welcome home, bug," he murmured warmly.

Jamie felt herself tearing up again, and as her friends began digging into the meal her aunt had provided she turned and buried her face against her uncle's shoulder. He rubbed her back soothingly as she soaked in the feeling of home. She moved from his arms to Reese, who was standing just behind his father. Charlie was next, her junior by a few years but still almost a head taller. Her cousins had always felt much more like brothers to her, and she was glad to see them as well.

Charlie tucked her under one arm and pulled her away from the chaotic kitchen and toward the much quieter living room. "You heard about Stephen?"

"Yeah," Jamie nodded. "How's Sam holding up?"

"Alright," Charlie shrugged. "With everything that was going on…"

Jamie joined him on the couch, tucking one leg under her as she turned to face him. "Is he coming home?"

"Mom called him," Charlie said. "He said he'd be here as soon as he could." He fidgeted slightly in his seat, a remnant of the seemingly endless supply of energy he'd possessed as a child. He had always been moving, climbing trees or running around or riding his bike. Even in school, the teachers had often remarked that he was a very smart child but had trouble sitting still or staying focused.

"Is it weird?" he blurted out suddenly. He shook his head a little, as if berating himself for the outburst, but his eyes held their curiosity.

"Being home?" she clarified. "Yes and no. I mean, as a kid I couldn't wait to get away, to get out on my own and start living my life. But now? All I've wanted to do for the past couple of months is this." She raised her hands to indicate their current situation.

Charlie laughed. "I know what you mean. All the shit that's happened in two years...it puts things in perspective."

Jamie chuckled her agreement then changed the subject. "How's your family?"

Charlie's face split in a proud grin. "Great! Megan's pregnant again. I just hope it's not another set of twins," he laughed. "I'm not sure if we could handle four against two."

Jamie forced a smile on her face. They didn't know. They didn't know that the very thing they believed had saved them had instead doomed them. Mitch was on his way to D.C. right now to brief their leaders on the situation, but the general public still believed the gas had worked. No one knew about their cure, or Pangaea, or the birds. And, Jamie suspected sourly, they never would. Mitch's work would be swept under a rug, his brilliance silenced to further the agendas of mega-corporations and governments.

"Jamie?"

Charlie was looking at her worriedly, and she blinked twice in surprise. Her hands had clenched tightly in her lap, and she relaxed them deliberately as she took deep breaths. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she reassured him. "It's nothing. Come on," she stood up and reached down for his hand. "I'm starving, and if we don't hurry there won't be anything left to eat in there."

The rest of the morning was spent catching her family up on everything. Much as they had for Dianne, Jamie and her friends relayed the events of the past two years in a sort of round robin storytelling that had everyone stunned into silence by the end.

It was Bo who spoke first. "That's a hell of a tale," he said.

"So no one can have kids anymore?" Charlie asked quickly. "What about anyone already pregnant? Is there a danger?"

"No," Jamie shook her head firmly. "All the tests we've done show that there's no change for anyone who was pregnant before the gas drop. But those kids, they'll be the last ones born unless we can figure out how to reverse it all."

"How do you know?" Charlie pressed.

"I'm pregnant," Dariela answered. "And I've been monitored since almost the beginning. Everything's normal."

"How come the news isn't reporting it?" Fran asked.

"Because they don't know," Jamie told her. "That's why Mitch is in D.C. right now. He's briefing everyone so they can start figuring out where to start."

"It sounds like one of those science-fiction novels you used to read all the time," Reese added with a teasing smile at Jamie.

"Funny you should mention that," she finished the last of her orange juice and set the empty glass on the table. "I've started compiling notes and accounts to write one."

"A book?" Fran gasped. "Dear, that's wonderful!"

"Yeah, but can you do it?" Charlie asked. At his mother's stern glare, he clarified. "No, I mean because of the non-disclosure thing."

"I never signed one," Jamie said smugly. "I was dead at the time." Her joke didn't sit well with her family, but her point still stood. "Besides, it's not going to be a true telling. More of an 'inspired by events' kind of thing."

"You need to be careful," Fran warned. "Reiden has a lot of money and influence. You know that better than any of us. What if they try to silence you?"

"Let them try," Jackson said defiantly. "The NDA only applies to the things that happened before the plane crash. And since Jamie never signed one, she's not restricted like we are. I, for instance, can't go public with that story, but she can. And everything after that's fair game."

Abe nodded in agreement. "They won't be able to stifle her unless they want everyone in the world to know that's what they're trying to do."

"And I imagine their PR guy is already busy enough as it is," Dariela added with a smirk.

"The world deserves to know the truth," Jamie felt bolstered by her friends. She had been unsure about the book at first, but the longer she thought about it the more she wanted to do it. Hearing her friends' unwavering support only stoked the fire in her chest. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to grab her laptop and dive into the files and notes she had there, so she stood with an offer to help clean up.

"Oh no, honey," Fran waved her off predictably. "You go rest. I can take care of this."

Dianne insisted on helping, and Fran finally relented under her persistence. The two women began chatting as they gathered dishes, silverware and glasses from the table. Everyone else cleared out quickly before they could get in the way. Charlie left with a hug and a promise to return with the rest of his family on Sunday. Bo and Reese went out to check the fields and to get some work done, leaving Jamie and the others to entertain themselves.

They grabbed their bags out of the cars and set them in a corner out of the way until they could figure out where everyone was sleeping. Clem found the television remote and began flipping through channels as Jamie pulled her laptop out of her backpack.

Her phone rang about an hour later. "It's Mitch," she announced to the others before she answered. "Hello?"

"Hey." He sounded exhausted and annoyed, which probably meant he had already met with someone.

"How's D.C.?" she asked flippantly as Clem abandoned the television to sit on the couch next to her.

"I think it's actually more chaotic now than the last time we were here," he told her. "How are things there?"

"Great," Jamie couldn't help but smile. "Clem wants to talk to you." She had caught the eager expression on the girl's face the moment she'd come over. She passed the phone to Clem and went back to her computer for a moment as the girl took over the conversation.

"Hey Dad." A beat of silence, then, "Good. Jamie's aunt cooked breakfast for everyone."

Even Jamie could hear Mitch's groan, and she laughed. "Tell him I'm sure Aunt Fran will be happy to cook him something when he comes back," Jamie said.

Clem relayed the message, then asked, "When are you coming back?"

Jamie wanted to know the answer to that question as well, so she leaned in a bit to hear his reply. "Tomorrow, hopefully," she heard.

"Okay." Clem listened for a moment more. "I will. Love you, too." She handed the phone back to Jamie and went back to the television, apparently satisfied with their conversation.

Jamie pulled the phone to her ear and sighed. "Tomorrow, huh?"

"Allison wanted me to stay through the weekend. I told her to go to hell."

Jamie wanted to believe he'd been more diplomatic about it, but he probably hadn't. "How did she take that?"

"About as well as you'd expect," Mitch answered. "Break's almost over, so I have to get back in there. I'm briefing the President's Science Advisory Committee this afternoon. I swear, I'm just gonna have them video this whole thing so I can stop repeating myself."

"Might save some time," she agreed. "I love you. Be safe." It had become habit to use the same five words at the end of any conversation, and he echoed them before disconnecting. Jamie held the phone for a second longer, then slid it onto the end table. Jackson, Abe and Dariela were holding a rather stilted conversation at their end of the living room, but Jamie could tell they were curious about Mitch's call.

"He's briefing the Science Council," she told them. "He'll be back as soon as he can."

Abe nodded thoughtfully. "He will be quite the popular man for a while, I imagine. He is the only scientist who has been involved from the beginning. The whole world is going to want to hear what he has to say."

Jamie hadn't thought of that. Suddenly, she pictured Mitch calling her every few days with an apology and another destination. He'd told her a while ago about how he'd been too brash and too quick to publish his work, eager to make his mark. He'd been burned, his work discredited, and now mostly kept his head down in the scientific community. Why _wouldn't_ he want enjoy his success now? The Architect of the Cure, Allison had called him. Every scientific journal and media outlet across the globe would be scrambling to get to Mitch Morgan.

"Jamie?" Dariela pulled her from her thoughts, and Jamie blinked a few times to clear her head. "Is there somewhere I can lay down? I need a nap."

"Uh, sure." Jamie slid her laptop to the cushion next to her and stood up. "You can sleep in my old room." She led the other woman up the stairs and down a short hall. There were three bedrooms upstairs, but only one on the left side the landing. The other two sat on either side of a bathroom on the right, all three rooms connected by a series of doors. Originally, Reese and Charlie had occupied those rooms, with the twins in the left room. When Jamie had moved in, Stephen and Sam had been thrown in with Charlie and Jamie was given her own space on the opposite side of the second level from the boys.

Her room was exactly the same as she'd left it twelve years ago. It wasn't a terribly large room, maybe fifteen feet by twenty, and painted in a soft grayish beige that Fran had argued against and lost. The far wall was navy, accented by the matching comforter and pillowcases on the bed against it. A dresser, a desk and a bookshelf were on the other three walls, leaving a small amount of open space to navigate between the furniture. Jamie's room didn't have its own bathroom, but the closet space more than made up for it. There weren't a lot of clothes in it anymore - just a few winter coats that hadn't been worn in a while - and almost half of it was piled floor to ceiling with boxes.

Dariela was already rearranging pillows, so Jamie shut the door behind her and turned to go back downstairs. It still felt odd to be back after everything that had happened. The house hadn't changed in years - decades, maybe - and she could still picture so clearly moments that had happened between these walls. Laughter floated up to her from the lower floor and Jamie recognized her aunt's voice as she told a story (probably something embarrassing from Jamie's childhood).

Jamie paused halfway down the stairs and sank down, content to listen to the warmth and love that seemed to be ever present in the house. Her family - both the one she'd been born into and the one she'd chosen - was under one roof, with one notable exception. Jamie closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, sending up a silent plea for Mitch to be done soon so he could come back - so he could come home.


	30. Interstices - Part 4

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 30: Interstices - Part Four

 _A surprise visitor arrives at the farmhouse._

* * *

The sun was already above the horizon and still rising as he rode east towards Folsom. Mitch fidgeted in seat as the anxiousness of his rather hectic travel itinerary washed away, leaving only a sort of giddy anticipation sitting high in his chest. He'd never guessed he'd be one of those lovestruck fools he used to scorn and mock, but here he was growing more and more flustered with each mile that disappeared between him and Jamie.

Allison had been rather difficult when he announced he was leaving D.C., and rather than fight with her on fuel costs and more briefings he'd arranged transport on an Army cargo flight delivering supplies to Fort Polk and the surrounding areas. He'd left a note - which he'd thought was rather civil of him considering - and boarded the plane at three in the morning. From there he'd managed to talk his way onto a transport truck headed for New Orleans. He'd hopped off in Baton Rouge and hitched a ride with a man reuniting with his family in Georgia. The man - Graham, he'd said - had insisted on taking Mitch all the way to Folsom when he'd learned that his family was there.

"A man should be with his family," was the only explanation he'd given and pointed his truck east on I-12 and refused to hear another word about it.

They crossed the Folsom city limit just after ten. Mitch directed Graham toward the broken gate and assured him that it was okay to drop him there. The Armstrongs were a welcoming bunch, but the things were still unstable and Bo often met strangers on the front porch with his shotgun in hand. Mitch would probably fare better walking the quarter mile down the dirt road to the house by himself.

Graham pulled over and unlocked the doors as Mitch extended his hand for a shake. "Thank you. I appreciate you going out of your way."

"You just hold real tight onto those girls of yours and we'll call it even."

Mitch stepped out onto the road and shouldered his bag as Graham turned around and began the long trek back to the highway. He was struck once more at the kindness of strangers and, for a moment, lamented growing up so isolated and alone. Each time he visited Folsom he felt like he understood Jamie a bit more. Her trusting nature had been learned here, surrounded by people unrelated to her but just as much a part of her life as her own family. People who were concerned about their neighbors, who pitched in to help when it was needed and who came together as a community when things went wrong.

His feet began carrying him down the dirt road, each step a little lighter than the one before. He felt a smile stretch his face as he caught sight of the house from the top of the hill, and it stayed as he crossed the yellow-green lawn.

Mitch could hear laughter through the door as he climbed the small stairs to the porch, and he opened the screen door to knock loudly on the wooden frame.

"I got it." Jamie's voice was muffled but no less beautiful to Mitch's ears. His grin widened as she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

"Hi, miss, can I interest you in one scientist, slightly used?"

"Mitch!" She recovered from her shock quickly and surged forward to wrap both arms around his shoulders.. He dropped his bag to return the hug, ignoring the pain in his ribs as she held on a little too tight.

"Miss me?" he laughed as she stepped back to pull him inside.

Jamie didn't even grace his question with an answer, choosing instead to roll her eyes and ask one of her own. "How'd you get away?"

"Snuck out," he told her honestly. "I have a few possibly angry voicemails on my phone that I haven't checked yet."

"Dad!" Clem appeared seconds later with Henry close on her heels. He hugged her as tightly as he could for several long seconds before everyone else arrived and he was passed around from person to person. Even Reese greeted him with a firm handshake and a smile, welcoming him back with the warmth of a distant relative he hadn't seen in a while.

"How did you get here?" Dianne asked when they were finally settled. Fran had left to fetch a glass of water for him and returned with a plate of what looked like breakfast leftovers. Mitch ate appreciatively and told the short tale between bites. They were all dutifully impressed by the ranks of leadership that had been his captive audience, but when he reached his great escape his mother clucked her tongue.

"Mitchell," she scolded lightly, though he could tell she didn't really mean it. She disliked Allison almost as much as Mitch did, and when he just shrugged in response he saw the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

"She'll be fine," he told them. "I imagine they'll be scrambling to restore order first before they start to worry about...everything else." He glanced furtively at his friends, unsure how much he should say, but Jamie just shook her head.

"We told them the whole story," she informed him. "They know what's going on."

"Did the president say what they were going to do?" Fran asked anxiously.

Mitch looked up a bit apologetically. "No. They were too busy assigning blame and debating who was going to be in charge of implementing cleanup protocols. I'm not sure when they'll actually get to the issue."

"I'd have left, too," Reese said from his position leaning against the staircase banister. "Those pr-people up in Washington," he amended quickly with a furtive glance at Clem, "don't know what they're doing. We're on our own out here."

"Things will get better," Jamie urged. "We've just now distributed the cure. Once things settle down, everything will start to go back to normal."

"Right," Fran agreed brightly. "Until then, I'm just happy that everyone is safe and home." There was a sadness as she spoke, and Mitch remembered that one of her sons would never come home again. Stephen had been killed in Houston last year, and though Mitch had never met him he felt a sort of kindred sympathy for Fran. Losing a child was one of the worst fears a parent ever faced, and he felt the urge to reach out and hold Clem just a little tighter.

"Alright," Bo announced, "let's all let Mitch get settled in. Reese, we need to go clear out all of that dead brush from the back lot."

"I'll help," Jackson stood, elbowing Abe on his way up.

Abe looked confused for only a second before he rose to his feet beside Jackson. "Me, too."

Mitch hid a smile as he realized what his friends were doing. Even Dariela got the hint, faking a yawn and escaping upstairs. Fran didn't bother masking her grin as she and Dianne stepped out onto the front porch to finish their coffee, Clem and Henry close behind. Mitch heard Henry's excited bark and Clem giggling as they started to play in the yard and took a moment to enjoy the sound.

"Come on," Jamie wrapped her hand under his arm and tugged him to stand with her. "I'll show you where to drop your bag."

Space was limited, Mitch discovered, but they'd made it work. Jackson and Reese had been given air mattresses and mounds of blankets to camp out in the living room. Dianne had lost the battle and ended up in Reese's room with Abe and Dariela in the guest down the hall. Jamie had gotten the luckiest of all, and Mitch set his bag down just inside her bedroom as she dragged him in.

"Clem's been in a sleeping bag on the floor there," she gestured to the space just in front of the closet, "but Charlie's bringing over one of the extra twin mattresses from his boys' roo- _mmph_!"

Mitch cut her off with a kiss, snaking one arm around her waist and threading the other through her hair. She was tense for only a split second of surprise before she responded eagerly, her lips plying against his as her hands wandered over his shoulders to curl in the hair at the base of his neck. It was longer than he usually wore it, but Jamie didn't seem to mind. She hummed as he leaned a bit further, backing her up to the wall. The impact broke them apart for a moment and Mitch chuckled low in his throat.

"What?" Jamie smiled back, her eyes bright and impish.

"Nothing," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned down to kiss her again. This one was softer, a promise whispered across her lips, and he lingered for a long moment. He put an inch of space between them to murmur three words. "I love you."

This time she was the one to initiate the kiss, raising to her toes to press her body flush against him. It was answer enough.

Mitch was content to spend the rest of the afternoon like this, but Jamie apparently had other ideas. He caught a glimpse of worry on her face as she ducked under his arm and took a few steps away. He turned but didn't follow, content to let her suss through her thoughts before she inevitably blurted out whatever was bothering her.

"Can you do me a favor?" she asked finally.

Two years ago, he'd have asked for specifics before agreeing to anything. "Sure," he replied without hesitation.

"I want to go see my mom," she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then back again. "Would you come with me?"

"I…" He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Truthfully, he'd be happy to go the rest of his life without setting foot in that cemetery again. The first time had been awkward, a knee-jerk reaction to offer her comfort in her moment of despair. The second had been one of the worst days of his life, and it was this feeling that he desperately wanted to avoid reliving.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he shook his head and offered her a flat smile.

"You don't want to go?"

She looked stricken and he back-pedaled quickly. "No, no, we can go." It was the last thing he wanted to do, but sending her off alone wasn't an idea he could bear.

They dug the keys to the Hummer out of Abe's coat by the door and announced they were leaving. When asked, Jamie answered Fran vaguely about their destination, mentioning a quick drive around town and maybe a stop at Vic's. The older woman got a look in her eye that Mitch understood. It was almost haunted, though she hid it well, and Mitch knew she was hesitant about letting her niece out of her sight. He promised her that he'd stay with Jamie no matter what, and she seemed to relax a little.

The cemetery was only a couple of miles down the road, but they passed it in silence. Mitch's heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure Jamie could hear it. By the time they finally parked he was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. He swallowed the anxiety down and wiped his palms on his jeans as Jamie hopped down from the driver's seat. She expected him to follow her like he had that first time, and she didn't even look back as she made her way toward the rows of headstones.

He caught up to her several yards from where her mother was buried, from where her own name was carved into an identical stone. He was so wrapped up in his own distress that he had forgotten to warn her. He saw the moment she caught sight of her headstone, and her entire body tensed as she jerked to a stop.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his tone low and deferential due to their surroundings. "I should have told you."

"This is why you didn't want to come?" She turned her head to look at him, but he missed it. His gaze was fixed on a point in the distance, his eyes steadfastly refusing to look down. The image of her name carved in the cold stone was one he'd never forget. "Mitch?" Her fingers slipped into his, cool despite the climbing temperature, and squeezed.

"We buried you," he finally murmured. His vision blurred as he fought back tears, and her grip on his hand tightened. "There wasn't a body, so all we had was a short service here. I had to listen to your family talk about how so full of life you had been as though that wasn't immediately obvious to anyone who'd ever met you. People kept saying how tragic it was that you'd died so young, and all I could think about as they spoke was how they didn't know the half of it. They tried to tell me you were in a better place, but the best place you could be is right here by my side." He raised his free hand to wipe away a tear that escaped, and as he glanced down he saw it.

 _JAMIE CAMPBELL  
1987 - 2015_

His hand slipped from hers as he turned away sharply, flinching as though he'd been struck. He felt like a fool for acting like this, but he couldn't help it. He knew Jamie must be having a hard time processing it as well, but his own grief rendered him incapable of offering her any sort of support or comfort.

The sound of crunching leaves and grass rustling caught his attention, and when he turned back Jamie was on her knees in front of her own grave marker. Her fingers were making trenches in the soft earth around it, and he realized at once what she was doing.

"Jamie!"

"What?" she craned her neck to look at him but didn't stop digging. "It's my headstone." He watched in horrified fascination as she dug up the rectangular stone, only moving to help when he saw her struggle to lift it.

"What the hell are we doing?" He slipped his fingers under a corner and pried as she pulled on the other side. It slid from the ground with a satisfying squish, and suddenly his arms were full of dirty headstone.

"Don't worry," Jamie dusted her hands off and stood. "I'm pretty sure you can't get bad luck from stealing your own gravestone."

"This is Louisiana," Mitch reminded her unnecessarily. "I'm pretty sure anything involving graves and stealing is a bad idea."

"Scared of zombies?" she teased as she led the way back to the Hummer.

"Well, they do eat brains and you seem to have lost yours. I'm more appetizing than you right now."

"Ha, ha." She opened the back up and gestured for him to drop the stone inside. "See, nothing to be afraid of."

"What are you going to do with this thing?"

She just gave him a devilish smile as she climbed into the driver's seat. "You'll see."

They drove back to the farm, but instead of stopping at the house Jamie kept on driving down the dirt path until they reached a barn. It was surrounded by overgrowth and a few piles of discarded junk, so Mitch knew there were no animals inside. It must have been the old barn, he reasoned, remembering a story she'd told him about building the new one sometime during high school.

"Jamie, what are we doing here?"

"Grab the stone and put it over there," she ordered, pointing to a small patch of dirt in front of the barn doors. "I'll be right back."

She disappeared into the wooden structure as Mitch struggled to keep from looking at the grave marker while moving it. He set it face down out of spite, backing up a few paces for good measure. He wasn't too worried about zombies and bad juju, but seeing her name atop the bracketed dates made his stomach turn.

"Here." Jamie sounded almost gleeful, and when Mitch turned to face her she was sporting a rather mischievous grin. Her hand was clenched around the wooden handle of an old sledge hammer, her arm outstretched in offering.

"What?"

"Here," she nudged the hammer forward a bit and he took it from her despite his confusion. She crouched to turn the stone over, seemingly unperturbed at seeing her own name on it. "Go on," she stepped back and gestured grandly. "Take a swing at it."

He finally realized her plan and smiled, his unease morphing rather quickly into anticipation. "Really?"

"Mitch, it's been almost a year since the crash, but you still carry the guilt around with you like a shroud. It doesn't matter how many times I tell you it wasn't your fault, a part of you still believes you could have done more. I died…" Mitch recoiled visibly at her words but she doubled down. "I died, and you grieved with the heart of a man who believed himself responsible. These last few months have been so hectic that none of us has had a chance to process much, least of all you. So think of this as a sort of therapy."

Mitch stared down at the white stone for a long moment. Her words reverberated through his head, and as he took several deep breaths he realized she was right. He'd been happier these last few months than he'd ever been in his life, but there was still a shadow lurking in the back of his mind that grew whenever he heard her whimper in her sleep or shy away from an unexpected touch. It made him angry that she'd had to endure that, and his hand tightened ever so slightly on the handle.

He planted his left foot forward and adjusted his grip. He remembered the way she'd looked when they'd found her in Caraquet, face drawn and eyes haunted. His muscles were halfway through the motion before he even realized he'd started to swing, and the head of the hammer made a satisfying _crack!_ against the stone. There was a sizeable dent in the center of the stone, and he took a couple more hard swings. Finally he cleaved it in two, the jagged edge of the break zigzagging between the first and second letter of her last name. It felt good to see it.

"Feel better?" she asked, her tone light and teasing. It had taken her awhile to find that again, he recalled. For several weeks after reuniting with the team she'd been cold and distant, unsure of her footing in the new dynamic.

He took another swing.

Her last name and year of death shattered into several smaller pieces as white dust exploded outward. He turned his attention to the second piece and remembered being surprised at her birthday. He'd known she was younger than him, but there was almost eight year's difference between them. She certainly had exhibited her youthful spirit on their first few meetings, her fire and enthusiasm inescapable, but she'd held a wisdom in her eyes that made her seem older than what he realized now was merely twenty seven.

"Mitch?"

He blinked and turned his head. "Huh?"

"You drifted off there," she came to stand beside him, just a pace behind. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed out and looked down at his handiwork. "That was...cathartic."

"Can I try?" She held her out hands eagerly and he relinquished the hammer. He took a few steps back as she adjusted her stance and her grip for a good swing. She hit the large piece with a force that surprised him, and it burst into tiny pieces. "That felt good." She dropped the hammer to the ground and closed the distance between them, slipping herself under his arms.

He winced slightly as his adrenaline wore off, reminding him that he'd been attacked by wild hybrids a little over a week ago. Jamie seemed to remember at the same time and she gasped as she jerked away from him.

"I didn't even think about your injuries. Are you okay? Nothing hurts too much, right? Do you need to go see a doctor?"

"I'm okay," he reached out and tugged her against him again, ignoring the aches and pains in favor of holding her. "Nothing a hot shower and some pain killers won't fix. You were right, though. I needed this."

"Come on," she nudged him toward the hummer. "All of this smashing made me hungry."

"You took one swing," he pointed out as they climbed into the vehicle.

"Yeah, well, you needed it more than I did."

He could only hum in agreement as he reached across the console for her hand. He laced their fingers together and rested them on her thigh, glad to see the soft smile she wore as she drove them back to the farmhouse.


	31. Interstices - Part 5

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 31: Interstices - Part Five

* * *

"Oh, Jamie!" Her aunt was frantic and as they entered the house. Jamie let go of Mitch's hand to grasp Fran's instead, a thousand worrying thoughts zipping through her head.

"What is it?"

"George just called from the cemetery," she looked equal parts horrified and worried. "He said...he said someone stole your headstone!" She looked about ready to faint and her grip tightened as she spoke. Jamie heard Mitch cough roughly behind her and shot him a warning look. But she'd never been very good at getting anything by her aunt, and the older woman's mood shifted from anxious to suspicious immediately.

"What's going on?"

Jamie tightened her grip on the woman's hand, as though she could physically will her to stay calm. "It's okay, Aunt Fran. Mitch and I took it."

The horrified shock was back, this time compounded with outrage. "Jamie Leigh Campbell!"

There was a quiet _ooooh_ from the other room that Jamie recognized immediately. "Shut up, Charlie! Listen," she turned back to her aunt, "I'm sorry I lied to you, but I went to visit Mom and saw it there. I didn't really think…"

"I cannot believe you'd do something like that!" Fran was now on a tear and Jamie stood stoically, knowing from experience that nothing she could say or do would deter her aunt. "That is sacred ground, Jamie. Your mother is buried there. Stealing a gravestone - even if it _is_ yours - is just…" She took a breath and Jamie knew she was winding down. When she spoke again, her voice was back to a normal register. "What did you do with it?"

"We took it to the old barn and smashed it with a sledge hammer."

Fran stood there for several long seconds just staring at her niece. Jamie stared back, reticent but unapologetic. Finally, her aunt just sighed. "Mitch," she looked past Jamie's shoulder, and for a moment Jamie was afraid she would yell at him, too. "Jackson was looking for you earlier."

"I'll find him," he promised. Fran nodded once and disappeared into her room, leaving Jamie and Mitch alone in the living room.

Jamie turned to him and sighed in relief. "That went well, I think."

"Better you than me," he teased. "I better find Jackson."

"You do that. I'm gonna go hit Charlie." Jamie caught sight of his grin as she turned for the kitchen. Charlie was sitting at the table with Abe and Clem teaching them a card game that the twins had taught him when they were younger. She waited until he finished the (thankfully) kid-friendly rules, then reached out and pinched his shoulder hard.

"Ow!" He rubbed the offended spot with his other hand and glared.

"You deserved that," she told him. "Deal me in."

Mitch came in about half an hour later looking grim. Jamie discarded her hand and rose to stand with him near the back of the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

"Allison called Jackson because she couldn't reach me," he told her. "She's sending us a list of events we have to attend in the next few weeks. Apparently someone leaked the real source of the cure and everything's gone haywire."

"Who?" Jamie knew none of them had been in contact with the press, and the only other person who knew the whole story was… "Logan." Mitch's frown soured further and he crossed his arms over his chest petulantly. "It had to be him," Jamie reasoned. "But why?"

"I don't know. Probably to make our lives harder. He seems to be pretty good at that."

Jamie ignored the jab and focused on the problem at hand. "So what is it we have to do?"

He dropped his arms with a sigh and ran a hand down his face wearily. "She said she wasn't sure on all the details, but we can expect at least a few press releases and meetings with big wigs. And this time they want all of us." Jamie could see the tension bunched in his shoulders and was reminded that he hadn't gotten his shower yet. He looked like he was masking his pain, and she rummaged around in the drawer next to her for some painkillers. She shoved the bottle of Advil at him and nudged him toward the stairs.

"Take those and go grab a hot shower. I'll round up the others."

They ended up spread out in Jamie's room with Dariela sitting on the bed and the others perched randomly against pieces of furniture. She'd managed to relay the story to them quickly, and by the time Mitch joined them he looked more relaxed. He eased himself down into the desk chair Jamie had appropriated from Reese's room and sighed.

"I suppose Jamie's told you all the good news?"

"Why would Logan go to the press?" Abe wondered aloud.

Mitch just shrugged a shoulder. "Who knows why he does anything? The point is, things just got a bit more hectic for us. Allison wants us all in D.C. by Friday. She said she'd work on travel accommodations and let us know."

"So much for a break," Dariela griped.

"Yeah, well, blame Logan," Mitch returned. "I was looking forward to doing nothing for a while, but it looks like we're back to globe-hopping."

"Globe-hopping?" Jackson questioned.

"Oh, right. Did I forget to mention the best part? She's got us attached to the State Department as 'experts,' so we have to brief foreign heads of state as well." Mitch's disdain was palpable and Jamie joined in when the others groaned at the news. Her family wasn't going to like it any more than they did, and she knew she'd get resistance from her aunt most of all. But it sounded like there was little they could do about it.

"Alright," Jackson pushed off of the dresser he was leaning on, "let's just not worry about it right now, okay? We've got, what, five more days? I intend to get as much relaxing done as I can." He left first, presumably to start relaxing, followed quickly by Abe and Dariela. Jamie glanced down at Mitch and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"I know you wanted to spend more time with your family. I can talk to Allison and see if we can do it without you."

"And let you four loose on those poor people without me there as a buffer? I'm not that cruel."

He huffed quietly in amusement, then seemed to register her words. "Hey."

"Really?" she crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow. "I love Jackson to death, but there is no way he has the patience required for multiple press junkets. Abe will probably be okay, but he'll be so busy keeping Dariela from going off on someone in a pregnant hormone-fueled rampage that he'll be useless. And we all know how charming you can be with foreign dignitaries and members of the press. Are you really ready to answer the same inane questions over and over without snapping?"

"I was a teacher, remember?" he shot back. "And I did manage to charm at least one member of the press," he added with a sly grin. His arm snaked around her waist and tugged, pulling her to sit across his lap. She didn't lean against him completely, mindful of his still-healing injuries.

"I'm not sure you can use the same tactics in this situation," she laughed. "Unless you want to start some very weird rumors."

"I don't know," he nuzzled her shoulder with his nose and placed a soft kiss on the crown. "Might keep them from inviting me to any more parties."

"I'll make you a deal," Jamie raised an arm to drape it over his shoulders carefully. "You teach us all of the science-y stuff about the cure, and I'll teach all of you how to talk to the press in a way that won't make Allison want to strangle us."

"The 'science-y' stuff?'" he laughed.

"I mean, I don't need to know all of the super complicated details," she shrugged. "But it'd be nice to answer any questions without having to always defer to you."

"Alright, Miss Campbell. You have a deal." He sealed it with a kiss.

She had just leaned in a bit more, shifting to keep most of her weight off of his bad shoulder, when he laughed against her lips. Puzzled, she eased back. "What's so funny?"

"Jamie Leigh Campbell?"

She could see the mirth dancing in his eyes and she didn't bother hiding her eye roll. "My parents were super into slasher movies," she explained. "They went to see Halloween on their first date. When I was born nine years later, Mom thought it was a good homage. Mine ends in 'g-h' though, not 'e-e.'"

"Alright then, Jamie Leigh, let's get started." He was enjoying this way too much, and Jamie resolved to ask Dianne for Mitch's middle name at the very next opportunity. Two could play at this game.

The five of them ended up under the shade tree in the backyard on two large blankets. Fran had even made some lemonade for them, and they each sipped their drinks as Mitch went over the broader aspects of the mutation and how the cure had stopped it. Jamie felt like she was in eleventh grade biology all over again, and more than once she had to stop Mitch mid-ramble to get clarification on something. She was scribbling shorthand notes in a spiral notebook that she was sure she'd spend more than one sleepless night studying. Abe seemed to catch on the fastest, and near the end he showed real interest in helping Mitch with humanity's newest problem.

"There's a lot about it I don't even understand," Mitch told him curtly. "We've got some of your dad's notes, Jackson, but I can't even begin to make sense of them. I have a feeling it's going to take a lot longer than two years to figure this one out. And once again, it looks like I'm the one who has to do the figuring."

"I will help," Abe promised. "However I can."

"Well, unless you're an expert in reproductive endocrinology, I'm not sure how much help you're going to be." Jamie knew he hadn't meant it as harsh as it sounded, but Abe fell silent anyway.

"Mitch."

His face was pinched when he glanced over, and he accepted her soft chastisement with about as much grace as she expected from him. He mumbled an apology in Abe's direction, though it didn't sound sincere. He winced visibly as he struggled to his feet and waved off her attempt to help him.

"I'm gonna go find out what Clem's been up to," he announced. The others watched as he made his way back to the farmhouse, though only Jamie was still looking when he disappeared inside.

"How's he doing?" Jackson asked.

Jamie turned back to her friends and sighed. "He's alright," she told them. "I think he's getting tired."

"We're all still recovering from the past few years," Abe said.

"No," Jamie shook her head. "I mean he's tired of being the one who has all the answers. Allison's little 'request' has made him surly."

"Mitch has always been surly," Abe joked. Jamie didn't laugh. "What I mean is," he backpedaled quickly, "Mitch has never been the most charismatic member of the team. But he is the smartest, and the only one of us who could have made the cure. I suppose it was just easier to let him take the lead, since he was the one who knew which direction to go to get what we needed."

"I know," Jamie let her own apology seep into her tone, "but he's been through so much. Plus, on top of everything else, he has to learn how to be a single dad to a twelve year old girl."

"You're right," Jackson agreed. "We'll do what we can to take some of the strain off of him."

"I think this will help," Jamie said, gesturing to the space around them. "If we can answer some of the more mundane questions without having to defer to Mitch all of the time, he might not feel so much pressure."

"Anything we can do," Jackson promised.

They spent almost another hour outside reminiscing about the "glory days" and basking in the sunny afternoon. Dariela fell asleep in Abe's lap sometime around two. Jackson offered to help him get her to the house, but Abe just shook his head and lounged back on his outstretched hands.

"After so many months stuck inside that plane, it's nice to be outside once again."

Jackson seemed to agree, though Jamie could tell he was getting antsy sitting here doing nothing. "I know Reese was going to go out on a four wheeler and scout around the land to see what needs repairs," she told him. "I can see if he wants some company."

"Sounds good." Jackson stood and held a hand down for her, hauling her to her feet beside him when she grabbed it. "Abe, you sure you're alright?"

"Go, _rafiki_ ," he raised his chin dismissal. "I will be fine."

"I'll be back soon," Jamie told him. "I'll get Jackson to Reese, then grab my laptop and some refills. I need to do some manuscript work anyway."

True to her word, Jamie returned about fifteen minutes later with a fresh pitcher of lemonade in one hand and her laptop bag slung over the opposite shoulder. She handed the pitcher to Abe as she settled against the trunk of the tree to get started on her work. She still had so much to flesh out before she could even begin to type out a first draft. She was hoping Abe would be willing to act as a soundboard if she needed it.

Jamie expected Mitch to join them at some point, but it was Charlie who came to get them for dinner. When she asked, Charlie just shrugged his shoulders.

"I haven't seen him in a while," he admitted. "I heard him talking to Mom and Dad earlier this afternoon. They might know where he is."

They didn't. Dianne and Clem hadn't seen him either since he'd come to check on them around one. Swallowing down the irrational fear that erupted suddenly, she pulled out her cell and called him. It rang five times before his voicemail message picked up. She hung up and tried again with the same results. She was about try once more when he strolled through the door casually.

"Where were you?" Jamie asked, trying her hardest not to sound as frantic as she felt. "I tried calling your cell."

"Went for a walk," he reminded her as he dug his phone from his pocket. "It's on silent, sorry." He pressed a few buttons to fix it and stuffed it back into his jeans before turning toward his friends. His eyes fell on Abraham first and he sighed. "I'm sorry about earlier," he apologized again, this time more sincerely.

" _Karibu_ ," Abe answered solemnly. "I am sorry for not realizing what stresses you were under. I meant what I said. I will help however I can."

Mitch just nodded, and that was that. Jamie fought the urge to roll her eyes at the boys and gently shoved Mitch in the direction of the downstairs washroom.

"Dinner's ready," she told him by way of explanation, leaving him to wash his hands as she went to help her aunt with setting the table for eleven. They had to pull Uncle Bo's card table from the shed to make room for everyone. Fran fretted over how dirty it was until Charlie pulled an old tablecloth from the depths of the hall closet and draped it over the surface. A mismatched set of four chairs from all over the house were scrounged up and placed around it.

"So who's sitting at the kid's table?" Charlie joked.

"You're the youngest," Jamie pointed out with a teasing grin.

"No way!"

"Charlie," Fran chided. "She's right. If it makes you feel better, Reese will be joining you."

Jamie made sure her back was turned when she stuck out her tongue at her cousin. He returned it with a sneer that had no heat behind it and resigned himself to the smaller table. Clem and Dianne offered to fill the remaining two seats, and Jamie was pleased to see both of them enjoying each other's presence. Being around her grandmother had done Clem a world of good, though Jamie knew she still had a lot of healing ahead of her.

Dinner was a chaotic affair. Fran had opted for spaghetti, leaving large bowls of noodles and sauce in the center of both tables to let everyone fend for themselves. The conversations ranged from the banal to the bizarre, and Jamie just sat back and soaked it in. The last time she had been home things had been forced, almost stilted, and she felt guilty and ashamed for intruding on a place that had once been her home. She knew it had everything to do with the failures that had been so fresh in her mind, and though she hadn't mentioned it to them she knew her aunt and uncle had figured out something was wrong.

It was different now. Now, it felt like she had never left. Joyfulness irradiated the room, filling every crevice and every nook. Her aunt was laughing at something Dariela had said, Charlie was entertaining Clem and Dianne with a rather exaggerated retelling of some of their childhood adventures, and Abe, Jackson and Uncle Bo were discussing the differences between the African bush and the Louisiana backwoods (turns out, there wasn't a lot of difference after all).

"Excuse me." Mitch stood up, his chair scraping on the linoleum, and everyone fell silent. "I'm not usually one for big speeches, so I'll keep this brief. Fifteen months ago I was sitting in my office at the Los Angeles Zoo, getting ready to go out and start my day, when my phone rings. It's a reporter from the L.A. Telegraph asking to meet me and inquire about the two lions that had escaped the night before." He caught Jamie's eye briefly as he swept the room and she smiled. He returned it with a quick one of his own before continuing.

"Little did I know that phone call would change my life. Now I'm a part of this super team who was tasked to save the world not once, but twice. And we did. It hasn't been smooth sailing, and there are more than a few days - months, really - I'd like to forget." Jamie knew he was talking about the crash and the subsequent months she was presumed dead. For a brief second she saw a flash of that haunted look in his eyes that she wanted so desperately to remove for him, but then it was gone.

"But in the end, I still cannot believe how incredibly lucky I am to have met all of you." He turned and held his drink out toward Abe, Dariela and Jackson. "I never had a lot of friends growing up, and it never really bothered me until now. Because now I know what I missed out on. You guys have been like family to me, closer than my real one - present company excluded. And I can't do anything about you three," he turned suddenly toward Jamie, "But I can do something about you. Jamie Leigh Campbell…"

In two steps he was standing at her chair, and with a carefully hidden wince of pain he kneeled down. Jamie felt her heart thump against her ribcage as the moment suddenly hit her. From a pocket he produced a ring that she recognized but couldn't place, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger. He looked giddy and nervous and terrified all at once as he held her gaze with the most earnest expression she'd ever seen on his face.

"Will you marry me?"


	32. Interstices - Part 6

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 32: Interstices - Part Six

 _A question is answered and a plan is formed._

* * *

"I'm gonna go find out what Clem's been up to."

Mitch left his friends sitting at their makeshift picnic and stalked back up to the house. He could feel their eyes on him but he didn't look back. He knew his irritation was irrational, but the more he thought about it all, the more he wanted to just disappear - let someone else handle it this time.

"Hi Dad!" Clem greeted him with a bright smile as he stepped into the house. She was sitting next to her grandmother flipping through her phone, obviously showing off pictures.

"Mitch," Dianne greeted. "What's wrong?" He'd never been able to slip anything by her, no matter how hard he tried. He smiled a bit at the familiar concern in her tone and shook his head.

"It's nothing," he told her. "What are you two ladies up to?"

"I'm showing her pictures of Mom and Justin," Clem said. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, but she seemed genuinely content to share her memories with Dianne. _At least she got her emotional stability from her mother_ , Mitch mused silently, remembering his own recent bout with loss and grief. It didn't seem like a year had passed since the crash. His keen mind recalled the memories so easily, as though it had only happened weeks ago.

"Well, I just wanted to check in with you two. Allison called and it looks like the others and I will have to travel for a bit."

"So soon?" Dianne shook her head and stood. "Mitch, you need to rest. You've been going non-stop for almost a year and a half now. You've done enough."

"I agree," he crossed his arms over his chest, "but it's not up to me. We're the only ones who know everything, which makes us the State Department's number one resource on all things Animal Rebellion. We don't really have a choice."

"You could tell them no," Dianne answered sternly. "You could ask them to give you a few weeks, at least. They owe you that."

"Mom, I've been through all of this with Allison already. Apparently it goes above _her_ pay grade, which means it probably came from the President himself. You want me to tell the President to wait a few weeks?"

Dianne pursed her lips but said nothing. Mitch understood her frustration and agreed, but much like a lot of other things in the last fifteen months it was out of his control. "Look, we'll do a whirlwind tour and be back as soon as we can."

"When do you have to leave?" Clem asked, rising to stand next to her grandmother.

"Friday," Mitch told her. "I'm sorry, Clem. I really am. If there was another way…"

"No, it's okay," the girl said flatly. "I understand."

"Hey," he unfolded his arms and gestured for her to come closer. When she did he slid an arm over her shoulder and tucked her against his side. "Come on, let's have a chat." He threw a glance over his shoulder to his mother, but she just nodded supportively. Mitch led Clem up the stairs to the room she shared with him and Jamie. He dragged the chair across the carpet to sit as Clem settled on the bed.

"I know this is hard for you," he started. "Your entire life has been uprooted in the span of just a few days. And you've been so strong through all of it, Clem. Stronger than I ever could be. I am so proud of you, but I don't want you to feel like you have to just accept things and say things just because it's what you think we want to hear." He knew he was poking at a hornet's nest, but he didn't want his daughter to make the same mistakes he had. "I want you to tell me what you're really thinking, no matter how much you think it might hurt me."

"It's just…" Clem swallowed thickly and looked down to pick at an invisible thread on the comforter. She seemed to be gathering her thoughts, so Mitch said nothing. Finally she looked up and he tried not to react to the sight of tears in her eyes. "It's not fair!"

"What isn't?" He had a feeling what she would say, but she seemed to need a bit of prompting.

"None of it," she tossed her hands up briefly and let them land heavy in her lap. "Mom and Justin dying, you being gone all the time, the animals...everything sucks."

He resisted the urge to scold her for her language and focused on her words. "I know it does. I'm sorry about your Mom and Justin, I am. I'd give anything to bring them back, Clem."

"You would?"

Her skepticism surprised him and he let it show. "Of course I would," he reassured her. "Why would you think I wouldn't."

"Because then I wouldn't be here with you."

"Clem, you are my daughter. You are the most important thing in the world to me, and I love you. I'm not sure I ever actually told you this, but one of the reasons I was...never really around when you were a kid was because I believed you were happier that way. I'm not…" he took a breath and reminded himself that if he expected her to be honest with him then he needed to return the favor. "I'm not the best father, I know that. Back then, I wasn't the kind of person that would have been good in a family. When your mom met Justin and told me they were getting married, all I wanted to know was how he was with you. She told me that he loved you like you were his own, and that's all I needed to know. You were safe and loved, and I honestly thought you didn't need me."

"But _you're_ my dad," she argued. "I'll always need you."

Mitch finally lost the battle against the tears building behind his eyes, and he smiled through them as Clem scrambled off the bed and into his lap. He hugged her tightly and kissed her head, glad that they seemed to have passed the hardest hurdle. Clem was crying, too, and he rubbed her back as her sobs grew louder. _Finally_ , he thought. She was finally grieving for her mother and for the man who had been her father in all but name.

He let her cry for as long as she needed, only offering her quiet reassurances and gentle caresses as she worked through her grief. When she finally stopped she sniffed wetly and sat back to wipe her face with her sleeves.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Hey, no," he patted her shoulder and helped her move back to the bed. She sat cross legged in the center this time, her shoulders slumped and her hands in her lap. "I'm your dad, that's what I'm here for. I don't want you to ever think you have to go through anything alone, okay?" She nodded, but he wanted to press home one more point. "There are a lot of people here who love you, too, Clem. Your grandmother, Jamie, Jackson, Abe...any of them would be willing to listen, okay? That's what family is for."

"But they're not really family."

"Yes, they are," he impressed gently. "Family's not just about who's related to who. It's the people who love you, who accept you no matter what and are always there for you. And I know us Morgans aren't exactly the greatest in the world, but luckily I met people who are as close to me as family and that's more than made up for it."

"There's more than one way to be related, you know." Her tone had shifted from sad to mischievous and Mitch grew wary. "I mean...you can be related by marriage right?"

Subtle she was not, but neither was she wrong. And it was not difficult to figure out who she was talking about. He couldn't help but suppress a chuckle as he played along. "Yeah, I guess."

"So…"

"So what?" He was going to make her commit to her game, and she didn't disappoint.

"So when are you and Jamie getting married?"

"It's not that simple, Clem. We haven't even planned anything…"

"I looked it up," she scooted to the edge of the bed, her earlier melancholy replaced with excitement. "In Louisiana you have to wait three days after getting your license to get married, so you can apply tomorrow and then get married on Thursday. You leave on Friday so it's perfect!"

Mitch could only smile at her enthusiasm. "So I guess this means you approve?"

Clem just shrugged a shoulder. "Of Jamie? Of course I do. She's pretty cool."

"She is," Mitch agreed.

"And she makes you happy."

"She does."

"Then, yes, I approve. You have to ask her now, though, because you're on a time crunch." She jumped off the bed and grabbed his hand, tugging him up out of his chair.

"Whoa, whoa," he laughed and resisted as she tried to drag him out the door. "I have a better plan."

He left Clem only after securing a pinky promise to keep the plan a secret. _At least for a few more hours_ , he'd told her. She'd zipped her lips and tossed the key for good measure, and he kissed her head gratefully. His next task would be much harder.

He found Bo Armstrong nursing a glass of tea on the front porch. Mitch stepped out the front door and sank down silently onto the porch swing. He lost his balance for a second and lurched, reaching out to grasp the chain with one hand. Bo chuckled and took another sip.

"You settling in alright?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, sir." Mitch cleared his throat and adjusted his position on the swing so that he was sitting on the edge. His feet were planted firmly on the porch as he leaned his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Hmm?"

Mitch opened his mouth but no sound came out. He tried again and coughed loudly, startling Bo. "Sorry," he mumbled, patting his chest.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Mitch cleared his throat and tried one more time. "I wanted to talk to you. About Jamie."

Bo straightened in his chair. "She's alright, isn't she?"

"She's fine. She's out back with the others. It's just…" Mitch hadn't anticipated how difficult this was going to be and he shook his head to clear the fog. "She thinks the world of you. You're the closest thing to a father she has, and while I'm not entirely sure she won't kill me for doing this, it wouldn't feel right if I didn't. I want to ask her to marry me. Tonight," he clarified. "And I guess...I just wanted to...see how you feel about it?" His sentence grew weaker and weaker as Bo stared him down, his piercing eyes unwavering and stern.

The silence grew longer and more uncomfortable for Mitch, who fought the urge to squirm in his seat like a schoolboy. Finally Bo just stood up. He stared for a few more seconds, then disappeared back into the house.

"That went well," Mitch groaned. He leaned back, momentarily forgetting he was in a porch swing, and had to flail a moment to regain his balance again. "Okay, Plan B. I don't _have_ a Plan B. Maybe Clem does."

He shifted his weight to stand, careful of the still moving swing. Once on his feet he made his way to the door, but it opened before he could grab the knob. Bo emerged wearing the same steely expression. He had one hand in his pocket, and as Mitch backed up a few steps he could see the man's fingers moving absently inside.

"Sit down, son." Bo thankfully gestured toward the other side of the porch where the non-moving chairs were. Mitch selected the old wicker chair that Fran had purchased from her cousin's yard sale years ago. She'd liked the pattern, she told him, and nevermind that it pinched your bottom whenever you tried to stand up. Bo took the bench seat, his broad frame enough to fill the space despite the expanse of wood next to him.

Mitch tried to stammer an apology. 'I'm, uh, I'm very sorry if I offended you -" He stopped abruptly as Bo held up his hand.

"You know, I've never really given much thought to this moment. I briefly entertained the idea when she was in high school dating Vic's boy. Fran dreamed she'd settle down with him and raise her family right here in Folsom, but I knew better. Our Jamie never settled. She soared. She rose above her tragedy and the pitfalls of this town and made it out. She made it through college and all the way to Los Angeles. She was making her life there, and I'd made my peace with it." Bo took a deep breath in, and when he let it out Mitch saw the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Each time she called Fran would ask about boys - men," he corrected. "But I never did. It's not that I gave up hope, it's that I decided that Jamie knew what was best for her, and I was happy if she was."

Mitch felt like Bo was waiting for him to say something, so he did. "I feel the same way."

"Which is why it works," Bo nodded. "The two of you. She wants you to be happy, and you want the same for her. Luckily, the thing that makes you happy is each other. I've seen her light up at just the mention of your name. I saw how devastated you were last year when you thought we'd lost her. There's no one else on this earth who could love her better than you, and I thank God each night she found you, Mitch."

To say he was stunned was an understatement. He gaped openly for a moment, completely overwhelmed at the compliment he'd just been paid. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Mitch stood and offered his hand.

"Thank you."

But Bo didn't grab his hand. Instead, he pulled the one from his pocket and held it out. Sitting on his palm was a ring, the band thin and pale gold. The jewels were small but beautiful, a white diamond accented on either side by smaller emeralds. Mitch had never seen a more beautiful ring.

"This belonged to my mother," Bo explained. "When she passed, she told me to give it to one of my boys. Now I love my daughter-in-laws dearly, but it just never felt right. I know why now. I was saving it for you."

Mitch was speechless. He clenched the muscles in arm tight to keep his hand from shaking as he reached for the ring. His fingers pinched the band and he brought it closer to his face for inspection.

"It's...I don't know what to say."

"Nevermind that," Bo clapped his shoulder heartily. "Welcome to the family."

Mitch spent the rest of the afternoon in a haze. Bo had suggested he take a walk to "work off the jitters," and he found himself in a lovely expanse of fields that were likely once rows of sugar cane. Bo and Reese had obviously started working the area again, clearing out the weeds and replanting. Mitch wondered how many other Folsom residents were doing the same, assessing their land and getting back to work. He hoped they could recover, especially after they'd worked so hard after the Reiden Global disaster. He'd hate to think of this quaint little town disappearing completely from the map.

As much as he loved it, though, Mitch knew he could never live here. He needed more to do than just examine livestock and pets. It's why he loved working at zoos. The variety of animals, the challenges their care presented, the joy he felt whenever he managed to work out a particularly difficult problem...it thrilled him.

He wondered what Jamie would want to do. After everything, of course. After they did their press tour, after things settled down. He knew she was working on the very beginnings of a book, and she seemed genuinely enthusiastic about it. He hoped she continued it. Their story deserved to be told, and Jamie deserved the attention for it. And maybe - just maybe - Reiden would get what _they_ deserved, too.

The sun was sinking when he finally reached the end of his mental rails. He'd sussed through everything, replayed moments in his head, and managed to concoct something resembling a speech for later. He'd wanted to do something super romantic, but that really just wasn't his style. Or hers. Surrounded by family - by people who loved them unconditionally - was better than any candlelit restaurant or fancy proposal.

"Where were you?" Jamie accosted him the moment he stepped through the door. She was almost panicking, and Mitch was startled to realize he'd been walking for almost three hours. "I tried calling your cell."

"I went for a walk," he told her. He pulled out his phone to check and grimaced as he realized it had been on silent. "Sorry," he told her. The rest of the team stood off to the side, and Mitch found Abe's eyes as he offered another apology for his earlier behavior.

" _Karibu_ ," Abe replied. Mitch didn't know Swahili, but the meaning was clear. _You're welcome_.

Mitch was content to sit back and listen as the chaos that was dinner unfolded. They'd managed to find another table to fit everyone, though proximity hardly seemed to matter. Questions were shouted across the room, laughter filled the space and there was a warmth that had nothing to do with the still-cooling oven. It was perfect.

"Excuse me." Mitch stood and the room fell silent. He swallowed down the butterflies that threatened to flutter up from his stomach into his throat and spoke from the heart. It wasn't terribly good or well-planned, but it didn't have to be. He spoke from his heart, thanking each of them for being his family, both related and not.

"And I can't do anything about you three," he teased Abe, Jackson and Dariela with a smile before turning a more serious one on Jamie. "But I can do something about you." She sobered instantly, and he had to fight to keep from laughing at the startled expression on her face. "Jamie Leigh Campbell…" He couldn't resist now that he knew her middle name, and he saw the flash of mirthful warning in her eyes as he moved over to her and carefully knelt down. His muscles were protesting the abuse he'd put them through today and he knew he'd pay more dearly for it tomorrow.

But he didn't care. He slipped the ring from his pocket and held it carefully between two fingers. Her eyes jumped from his to the ring and back again, and he knew she recognized it. _This is it_ , he told himself. _You're really doing this_. He took one more steadying breath, caught her gaze and held it.

"Will you marry me?"

There was a beat as he watched her quick mind catch up to the events, then she exploded from her chair in a flurry of arms and tears as she yanked him up from the floor and threw her arms around him.

"Yes!"

The room erupted in cheers and hollers as everyone else jumped up to congratulate them. Mitch's pain disappeared as euphoria swept over him and he hugged her back. He felt hands and arms engulfing them in a group hug but he was focused solely on the woman in his arms. She was still gripping him tightly, and he could hear her laughing against his shoulder. Their family and friends were still celebrating around them, but he managed to put enough space between them to slip the ring on her finger. It was a little loose but not enough to fall off, and Jamie glanced at it briefly before returning to his arms.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear, knowing she would hear despite the raucous around them.

"I love you, too," she answered, squeezing him once more before letting him go. She was swept immediately into a hug by her aunt as Mitch was grabbed by his mom. The next few minutes was a blur of hugs and blessings before they found each other again.

"How long have you been planning this?" she asked once they'd all found their seats again.

"About five hours," he admitted, earning laughter from almost everyone. "Clem wanted me to do it this afternoon."

Jamie turned to the girl, who just shrugged and grinned broadly. "This was way better, Dad."

"I thought so, too." He watched as a myriad of emotions played across Jamie's face and decided he loved them all on her. She was happy - _really_ happy - and he knew he'd spend the rest of his life trying to put that look on her face everyday.

"So," Clem bounded out of her chair and came to stand between them. "You're gonna go tomorrow right?"

At Jamie's questioning look, Mitch explained. "Clem had it all planned out," he told her. "Apparently there's a three day waiting period, so if we want to do this before we leave on Friday then we'll have to apply for a license tomorrow."

"You'll need both of your birth certificates," Charlie warned. "And a notarized application."

"Nonsense," Fran interrupted with a wave of her hand. "Bo and I got married in Mississippi. All they need is your driver's license and there's no waiting period. My cousin, Patricia, lives in Hattiesburg. Her husband's a pastor there. He can marry you two tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Jamie reeled at the word and Mitch grabbed her hand.

"How about Wednesday? That'll give us enough time to adjust…"

"No," Jamie shook her head quickly. "Tomorrow. Who knows what could happen between now and Wednesday."

Mitch had to agree and - given their track record - it was probably best to do it as soon as possible. "Alright," he smiled as his heart pounded away in his chest, "tomorrow."

Hattiesburg was a two hour drive from Folsom, though it took a bit longer since Charlie requested they stop to gather his wife and twins. They ended up in four cars caravanning along I-59. Mitch had Jamie had been separated at Fran's insistence, and the last Mitch had seen of Jamie had been her apologetic wave as she was bustled into Reese's sedan with Fran, Dianne and Clem.

Bo and Reese had been forced into the old truck, which left Mitch riding in the Hummer with Abe, Jackson and Dariela. They were third in the caravan (Bo had offered to ride tail to make sure they didn't get lost) and no one said a word during the first half hour of travel.

Dariela finally turned the radio on once they pulled out of Charlie's drive, tuning it to a local station that played classic rock and old country tunes. Mitch sat in the back with Jackson and tried to calm his nerves, reminding himself that he'd done this before.

 _This is different_ , his heart reminded him. He and Audra had married for the wrong reasons, trying desperately to craft a family from the accidental miracle that had been bestowed upon them. Even as they'd stood in front of of the judge and recited the words, Mitch hadn't felt the soul-consuming love that had been described _ad nauseum_ in books and movies. He'd chalked it up to his own shortcomings and told himself that he loved her. And he did. Audra had been the one to pull him out of the spiral after Allison, had validated his feelings of betrayal and anger and had condemned both Allison's actions and his father's. But the damage had been done, he'd assumed. Clem came along and they were happy, for a while. But he couldn't give Audra what she needed, and he'd bowed out before the tension between them grew too dark, too full of resentment to leave him any happy memories.

But his heart was right. With Jamie, everything was different - easier - and he felt no hesitation when he spoke to her about his own fears and feelings. And it had been like that from day one with her, another variation from his usual aloofness whenever he met someone new. Jamie had mesmerized him from the moment he'd met her, and he still couldn't believe they were going to be married in just a few hours.

Mitch felt a pang of regret as they crossed the Mississippi border. She deserved so much more than this shotgun wedding, planned and executed in the span of less than twelve hours. She hadn't so much as hinted that she wasn't happy, but he imagined that this rushed ceremony and small party of witnesses hadn't been a part of whatever childhood plans she'd crafted for this day. Other than the one on her finger, they had no rings, no cake, not even a wedding party. He wondered if Jamie had asked anyone to be her maid of honor and almost asked, then thought twice. If she had, then he would be forced to pick a best man, and he had no idea how he would choose between Abe and Jackson. They were the closest things he had to "best friends," though truthfully the only one who really fit that bill was going to be his wife.

"I can hear you thinking from over here," Jackson joked as they slowed for an emergency vehicle. "Not having second thoughts?"

"What? No," Mitch shook his head. "Of course not. I just…" he blew out a breath and turned to look out the window. The scenery of southern Mississippi was unremarkable, much like most highway drives. With nothing to grab his attention, he was forced to answer Jackson's questioning stare. "I was just thinking about the wedding," he said honestly. "Jamie probably had all these plans for a huge ceremony and reception, with all the bells and whistles. This is...less than what she deserves, I guess."

"I didn't hear any complaints from her," Dariela pointed out. "She loves you. That's all the matters. The rest of that is just...fluff." She said it with such disdain that Mitch couldn't help but laugh.

"I thought all you girls planned these glamorous fairytale weddings when you were kids?"

"Yeah, well, some of us had other things to worry about." She caught his eye in the side mirror and shrugged. "Besides, you can always plan a big reception or whatever when this is all over."

"Right," Mitch nodded and filed that away for the future. It was a good idea, and he would definitely talk to Jamie about it. Then, before he could think about it, he asked, "Did she talk to you about being maid of honor?"

"Actually," Abe jumped in with a side glance. "She asked me to stand with her."

Mitch laughed at his joke, then sobered when nobody joined him. "You're serious?" Abe nodded solemnly. "Huh. Well, I guess that means I don't have to decide between you and Jackson, then." He turned his head to the man sitting next to him. "How about it, Oz? Wanna be best man?"

Jackson just grinned. "Why not?"

Fran called Dariela's cell when they crossed the city limit. Mitch only heard one side the conversation, but he gathered enough context clues to get the gist.

"Fran says she wants you to close your eyes and not open them until Jamie's inside the church."

"This is ridiculous," Mitch pointed out.

"Jamie probably isn't the only one who had big plans for this day," Abe pointed out. "Just do as she asks."

They rounded the last corner and Mitch dutifully shut his eyes the moment he saw the steeple in the distance. He waited as Abe parked, and then listened as Dariela narrated Jamie's movements from her car to the church.

"And she's gone."

Mitch opened his eyes, stepped out and looked around. He'd been half-expecting one of those enormous megachurches that had thousands of members and broadcast their Sunday worship services on a local channel on Sunday evenings. But apparently Fran's cousin's husband wasn't that kind of preacher.

Calvary Baptist Church was a modest one story L-shaped building that sat on a corner lot. Three interconnected parking lots stretched out behind it, and another smaller lot crossed in front of the main doors. It was here that their caravan had parked alongside a late model SUV with an ichthys emblem above the back left tail light and a small cross decal in the back window.

The front doors, as well as the entire facade around it, was painted white. The steeple Mitch had seen from the road towered above the main doors, which led into the shorter part of the "L." A young man of about twenty was standing just outside, atop the wooden steps painted to match the rest of the building.

"Welcome to Hattiesburg," he greeted. "I'm Michael Greenbaugh. My dad is the pastor here. He said to take you to the conference room."

Introductions were made on the way, and soon Mitch found himself in a very pristine room with a mahogany table and eight luxurious chairs. He guessed this room didn't see many people judging by the fine layer of dust that coated the tops of the picture frames, though it was fancy enough that Mitch didn't dare reach out to clean them.

"Dad said he'd come by in a few," Michael explained. "I'll fetch some water and sandwiches for you."

"Gotta love that southern hospitality," Dariela remarked as Michael dashed away.

"Where did everyone else go?" Abe wondered, peering up and down the hall. But no one materialized, leaving the others to just shrug.

"I'm guessing the girls are with Jamie," Jackson said. "I have no idea about the others."

Mitch sank down in a plush chair and drummed his fingers absently. His nerves were beginning to ratchet up again, and he had to take several steadying breaths before he could organize his thoughts.

A knock on the door was the only warning they got before it opened, admitting a man in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair and bright green eyes. There were laugh lines around his mouth, and they deepened as he offered his guests a broad smile.

"Good morning," he stepped into the room and didn't bother shutting the door behind him. "I'm Thomas Greenbaugh. My wife, Patricia, is Fran's cousin." He shook hands with everyone before clapping his together. "So which one of you is the lucky groom-to-be?"

"That would be me," Mitch waved.

"Excellent. I wonder if you and I can walk together for a moment?"

"Uh, sure." Mitch followed him out into the hallway and fell into step as he meandered down the corridor.

"Fran told me all about your circumstances," Thomas kept his eyes on the hall as he spoke, his tone even and sure. "Normally I require six months of counseling before I even consider performing a wedding. Do you know why?"

"To make sure one of them won't kill the other for the life insurance right after the honeymoon?" Mitch offered.

Thomas laughed. "That's part of it, I suppose. I always want to be sure that both parties involved fully understand the commitment they're making. I often see too many young people rushing into something their simply not ready for."

"That's not -"

"Oh, I know," Thomas went on. "As I said, Fran has told me everything I need to know. You know, I met Jamie once when she was just a little thing. It was at a reunion or another wedding? I can't recall. But she was certainly unforgettable. A little redheaded spitfire, running around with the boys and calling the shots even though she was just five or six. I met her mom that day, too. Lovely woman. I was sad to hear that she'd been affected by that awful sickness."

"Not that I'm not loving our little chat," Mitch glanced around and realized he had no idea where they were. This hall looked exactly like the other, but when he glanced back he didn't see the open door of the conference room. "But why are we here?"

"Because," Thomas clapped Mitch on the shoulder and grinned. "You're getting married today, and you have nothing to wear." He opened the nearest door with a flourish, revealing a long closet full of clothes. There were robes for each member of the choir done in almost half a dozen different colors. Larger white frocks hung in the back - _probably for baptisms_ , Mitch thought.

Thomas led him through the narrow gap between the clothes and stopped at a section near the middle. Suits of various shades and sizes were hung there, each with a tag labeled in a neat script that detailed the size and color.

"Pick one you like," Thomas gestured. "These are for our ushers during formal events like Easter and Christmas. They're not the most expensive in the world, but it's better than jeans and a t-shirt."

Mitch disagreed, but he also reminded himself that this hasty wedding had been (mostly) his idea and the least he could do for Jamie was dress for the occasion. He selected a black suit and a white dress shirt from the rack, then hunted through the assortment of ties until he found one that he didn't hate. Unfortunately there was no magic shoe rack to be found, so his broken in sneakers would have to do.

He changed in an anteroom across the hall, and though the sleeves were about half an inch too short and the pants about an inch too long, Mitch thought he cleaned up rather nicely. Thomas nodded in approval as he stepped back into the hall, then gestured for him to follow.

"Bo and the boys went to the store for some things," Thomas explained. "Patricia brought a few dresses for Jamie to try on. I need to check on a few things, so I'll take you back to your friends then come get you when we're ready."

"Sounds good," Mitch nodded. "And thank you...Father?"

Thomas laughed. "Brother Thomas is what my congregants call me, but just Thomas is fine." He held out his hand and shook Mitch's firmly. "Thank you for everything you've done. I'm sure Fran only told the bare minimum, but even what I heard I still don't believe."

"Try living it," Mitch quipped, offering the man a final wave as he smiled and disappeared down the hall.

Dariela gave a low whistle as he stepped back into the conference room. "Hello, Professor."

Mitch just rolled his eyes. "Shut up." He used one of the framed photos to catch his reflection as he tried to comb his hair into submission with his fingers.

"It's hopeless," Jackson came up behind him. "Maybe I should marry her instead."

Mitch was grateful for their good-natured ribbing, knowing they were only doing it to keep his mind from spiralling too far out of control. He had a nasty habit of overthinking things, and if given the chance he was sure he could talk himself out of this. Jamie deserved so much more - someone better than a washed up scientist with a failed marriage already under his belt.

He slammed the lid on that line of thinking immediately, turning his thought instead to Thomas' words. What kinds of things could Bo and the others be getting from the store? What kind of dress would Jamie be wearing? Had he ever actually _seen_ her in a dress before? He couldn't remember. He didn't think so. Dresses weren't exactly conducive to the rough-and-tumble, end-of-the-world lifestyle they'd led for the past fifteen months. And he was pretty sure he'd remember seeing Jamie dressed in anything other than jeans and a blouse that had become her staple.

"Mitch?" Abe's deep basso pulled him out of his own head, and he blinked owlishly in reply. "It is time."

And so it was. Michael was standing by the door with a pleased smile and bright eyes like his father's. "Ta-da!" He produced a manila envelope with a flourish and offered it to Mitch.

"What's this?"

"Your marriage license. Normally you have to apply in person, but I have a friend in the County Clerk's Office. I had your mom and Reese text me all of your information."

Mitch flipped the top of the envelope back and pulled the thin paper from within. Sure enough, every line was complete except for the signatures. "Wow." It was becoming more real with each passing minute, and seeing their names in black and white struck a chord in him.

"Dad said to get you and bring you to the multipurpose room."

That caught Mitch off guard. He'd expected they would be married in the sanctuary. His surprise must have shown on his face because Michael launched into an explanation immediately after they began walking.

"Dad said that Jamie said you might not be comfortable in the church proper," he said. "So we found a compromise." His conspiratorial smile told Mitch that he wasn't going to share said compromise, but Mitch couldn't really focus on that. He was too busy putting one foot in front of the other and making sure he didn't trip over his own feet on the way to his wedding.

Multipurpose was an odd moniker for the large space that Michael led them to. Though, Mitch supposed, that was probably the point. It could become whatever they needed at the time, from a banquet room to a meeting hall to a secondary worship space. He expected to see his and Jamie's family gathered there, but as they entered it was eerily quiet.

"Jamie's on the opposite side of the courtyard," Michael explained. "The others are out here. Come on." He opened a side door that Mitch had thought was an emergency exit. It turned out to lead to a small garden courtyard contained completely within the church's walls. There were rows of magnolias around the perimeter and lining the walkway, which looked appropriately like a cross. The smaller section stretched from the door they'd exited to another identical one across the way. Jamie was just beyond, Mitch reminded himself, though he couldn't see through any windows.

The longer part of the cross stretched to his right and the shorter part to his left. The left side ended in an impressive floral arrangement that was likely hell on everyone's allergies in the springtime. The right side led to a large red maple tree that had obviously been here since before the church was built. Mitch's estimation of Thomas and his family ratcheted up a notch as he admired the old tree that was so cherished that they built their church around it. A bench sat just in front of it, and it was here that a hastily constructed lattice archway had been constructed. Bo and Reese were just finishing up the spiral of Christmas lights on either side when Mitch approached.

"What do you think?" Bo reached down and connected the plug to an extension cord, and the entire thing began to twinkle softly with white light. From somewhere behind the tree Mitch heard the faint strains of music, and when he peered around he saw Charlie fiddling with an iPod and a docking speaker.

"It's my wife's," he explained. "Megan is a huge music lover. She's got a million songs on here. We spent the whole ride over here coming up with a playlist."

Mitch looked around at the miracle that had come together before him and he smiled. "Thank you. All of you. This is…" He trailed off, unable to think of anything suitable.

"We know we did good when Mitch can't speak," Dariela joked, earning her a half-hearted glare from the scientist.

The side door opened and Thomas came out, along with a woman who Mitch guessed was his wife. "She's ready. Are you ready?"

"More than," Mitch replied. He was still nervous, but now that the moment was here his nervousness was overshadowed by the _rightness_ of this.

Thomas smiled at his answer and came to stand next to him. Jackson took up the space just behind him as Abe backed up a bit to leave room for Jamie. Her family poured out of the church and stood along the stone path as Charlie pressed a button on the iPod.

A soft melodic piano line floated through the air. It was familiar, but Mitch was woefully inept when it came to pop culture. He heard his mother sniff wetly and raised an eyebrow at her. She dabbed the corner of her eye with her sleeve and smiled at him, mouthing something he couldn't understand. He realized she was trying to tell him the name of the song, but his attention was suddenly pulled from her to the vision standing at the end of the walkway.

Like him, Jamie had borrowed clothes for the ceremony. Unlike him, she looked absolutely stunning. The dress she wore was a rich cream color, and Mitch suspected the style probably had some fancy name he couldn't be bothered to remember. Her hair had been pulled up into a bun, though wisps of it had escaped and fluttered about her face and neck as she tucked her hand into the crook of her uncle's elbow. He whispered something to her that made her smile, and Mitch's breath caught in his throat.

The music crescendoed as she began walking toward him on her uncle's arm. Mitch glanced over at his mother and daughter, smiling at the thumbs up from Clem. He gave her a quick nod before returning his eyes to his bride.

 _Oh my God_.

She was standing in front of him before his mind could fully process his own words. His bride. Jamie was about to be his wife. This was really happening right now.

Thomas started speaking, going through the openings of a traditional wedding, but Mitch couldn't stop staring at Jamie. She was staring right back, her eyes shining with the same delight that seemed to have taken hold of him.

"Mitch."

He blinked and turned quickly toward the pastor. "Huh?"

Everyone chuckled - including Jamie - as Thomas indicated he should take Jamie's hand. He did so gladly. "I have not spoken with the bride and groom regarding their wedding vows, so if it's alright with you we'll stick with the version we usually use here. Do you, Mitch, take Jamie to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you swear before God, before your family and friends, that you will love, honor, cherish, respect and comfort her, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health? Do you promise to share your joys and sorrows, help her when she needs help and turn to her first when you need help and, forsaking all others, to be faithful to her alone?"

It was easiest question he'd ever been asked. "I do."

He felt Jamie's fingers tighten within his grasp as Thomas turned to her and repeated the vow. "Do you, Jamie, take Mitch to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you swear before God, before your family and friends, that you will love, honor, cherish, respect and comfort him, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health? Do you promise to share your joys and sorrows, help him when he needs help and turn to him first when you need help and, forsaking all others, to be faithful to him alone?"

"I do."

"Then, by the power vested in me by the state of Mississippi, I pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together today, let no man tear apart. You may kiss your bride."

But Mitch was a beat ahead, his lips pressing against Jamie's before Thomas finished speaking. He heard everyone start to cheer, but the only thing that mattered in that moment was his wife.

His _wife_.

 _Jamie_ was his _wife_. A weird sort of bubbly feeling erupted from his gut, slipped past his throat and spilled off his tongue in an elated giggle. He realized with a start that he was feeling happiness - true and pure happiness - and for once he didn't bother stuffing his emotions back down.

Mitch lost hold of Jamie's hand as they were set upon by their family, but he kept catching her eye as they were passed from one person to the next. Once, between Bo's hearty back slap and Dianne's weepy hug, he mouthed "I love you" to her. She returned the sentiment, along with her own giddy smile, and Mitch knew he wasn't the only one overwhelmed by the moment. Despite the odds, amid the horror and anarchy that had surrounded them, after so much heartache and despair, they'd made it.

Mitch had told Jamie once that he didn't believe in fate, that things happened by chance and by choice and not because of some preordained plan. But standing here with her now - not just as her friend and lover, but as her husband - he was definitely beginning to believe.


	33. Interstices - Part 7

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 33: Interstices - Part Seven

 _The team heads to D.C. to brief the President. Jamie has a surprise for Mitch._

* * *

Jamie woke up before Mitch on Friday morning, though she didn't make a move to get out of bed. It was still dark out her window and she could hear Clem's soft breathing from the makeshift bed near the closet. _Her family_. It was still unbelievable to her sometimes. It had only been three days and, although she had understood what marrying Mitch meant, it was still weird to think of the girl as her step-daughter.

She was married. That thought was still new to her as well, and she reached over to fiddle with the ring on her left hand as she repeated the phrase over and over in her head. Married. She and Mitch were married. The ceremony had been short but sweet, not quite what she'd pictured as a child but no less perfect because of the man standing with her. She'd been surprised to see him in a suit, though her own nerves and excitement had quickly overwhelmed her curiosity. The faint strains of music emanating from Charlie's iPod had been enough to ground her and allow her to focus as Uncle Bo led her down the walkway.

The Greenbaughs had been kind enough to open their home for the after party. It was an expansive manor on a large plot of land. The front lawn was overgrown and the windows had been boarded up, but the backyard looked like it could be used as a model for a magazine. The lush green grass was clipped evenly in neat rows and large maple trees dotted the area, casting large shadows across the lawn. The Greenbaughs obviously weren't strangers to hosting a large party because in a matter of minutes they produced enough tables and chairs to seat everyone.

The party had lasted well into the evening, and Thomas kindly offered their home for everyone to stay the night. Jamie and Mitch had been given the guest house out back, a small cottage with one room and a kitchenette. They'd made good use of it, and the next morning both of them were teased endlessly about the dark circles under their eyes.

Things had settled back down once they drove home. Sam and his family had stopped by to say hello, and Jamie was surprised at the almost brotherly fondness between her cousin and Mitch.

"Hey," Mitch's rough whisper pulled her from her thoughts, and she burrowed into his warmth as he rolled toward her. "It's too early for that much thinking."

"Says the man whose brain never shuts off."

He hummed in reply and kissed her forehead. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," Jamie told him. Then, with a heavy sigh, she added, "We have to leave today."

"I know."

"What do you think Allison will say?"

His eyes cracked open at that, though she could barely tell. "About what?"

"About this," she ran her left hand down his arm and set it between them. "Us being married."

"I don't give a sh- I don't care what she thinks," he amended as she cleared her throat pointedly. Clem was probably asleep, and she was almost twelve, but it still felt weird. She supposed it was her newfound status as step-mother, but she was suddenly very self-conscious where the girl was concerned.

"I don't either," Jamie agreed. "But you and I both know she isn't going to just ignore it."

"We don't have to tell her," Mitch offered. "Do you want to keep it to ourselves for now?"

"No," Jamie balked at the idea. There was nothing to be ashamed of, and anyone who didn't like it wasn't worth the time it would take to tell them off. She could tell from Mitch's tone that he didn't like that either, and somehow knowing they were on the same page bolstered her. "No, I don't. I mean, it probably won't be the first thing I say to her, but I don't think we should lie if she asks. It's none of her business anyway."

"Good," Mitch's fingers curved around her hip and pulled her closer. "Full disclosure: it will probably the first thing _I_ say to her."

Jamie rolled her eyes and stifled a gasp as he turned to his back, bringing her with him. She clutched at his shoulders to stay balanced, and once they had settled she was lying completely on top of him.

"Mitch," she hissed as he began kissing her neck. "Mitch, Clem is right there." She couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped her as his lips pressed firmly just below her ear.

"Can I help it if my wife is irresistible?" he murmured back, his teeth grazing her ear lobe lightly. Jamie felt her eyes flutter shut as a thrum of energy shot through her at his words. They'd both been surprised on their wedding night when he'd said something similar and Jamie had responded...arduously. He'd teased her later - cautiously amending it to "the 'w' word" lest she jump him again - and she'd laughed with him. She'd had no idea the effect that simple four-letter word would have on her, but every time it spilled from his lips she couldn't help herself.

She almost surrendered to his ministrations, but then Clem shifted under her blankets and they both stilled comically. She could hear Mitch's heart pounding under her own, their rhythms synced in a quick pace from passion and panic. The girl finally stilled with a heavy sigh, and her following breaths were shallow and even. She was still asleep.

"Too close," Jamie warned as she carefully pushed away from him and stood up. Her shirt rode up when she stretched, and Mitch's hand was warm as he caressed the soft skin of her stomach. "Behave." She swatted his hand away and left him in bed as she padded across the hall to the bathroom.

She paused at the top of the stairs to listen to the soft sounds of her aunt bustling about in the kitchen. Reese and Uncle Bo were probably already up and out tending to the morning duties that came with living on a farm. She knew from experience that they would return just after sunrise, and Uncle Bo would settle in his chair with a mug of coffee and the paper as Reese helped his mother with breakfast.

Jamie closed her eyes for a moment as a wave of nostalgia washed over her. Her teenage years had been fraught with grief and anger, and it killed her now to realize everything she'd missed back then by shutting herself away from the world. Looking back, she knew her childhood had been one full of love and happiness. She'd been lucky, though it hadn't felt that way back then. Between her mother's death and her father's abandonment, young Jamie had felt anything but lucky.

"You gonna stand there all morning?" Mitch was leaning against the door frame of her bedroom looking almost smug.

"Just thinking," Jamie whispered back, mindful of the still-sleeping occupants of the other two rooms on the second floor.

Mitch pushed away with his good shoulder and walked toward her. "About what?" He stopped behind her and wrapped both arms around her middle, tugging her back gently to rest against him.

Jamie laid her hands over his on her stomach and let her head fall back to his shoulder. She felt his lips press into her hair just above her temple as she relaxed in his embrace. "Growing up here," she told him honestly. "I was so awful to them after my mom died. I wish...I wish I could go back and tell myself how lucky I was to have such a great family. They all did so much for me, and I was so ungrateful."

"They know you love them," Mitch murmured in her ear. "They know it now, and they knew it back then. You were twelve, Jamie. No one blames you for being angry."

Jamie turned around and slid her arms over his shoulders to pull him into a hug. He seemed to sense her need to just be held, so he fell silent and obliged. After a few moments she felt them start to sway. It was just a small movement side to side, a barely noticeable shift of their weight between their feet, but she smiled anyway and let him lead her in an early morning dance there at the top of the stairs. It reminded her of their first dance as husband and wife - his panicked expression and clumsy stumble as she pulled him up out of his chair and onto the open area between tables that served as the dance floor. Charlie had been nominated the unofficial DJ, and Jamie hadn't even had to threaten him to play something nice. He hadn't disappointed.

"We should start getting ready." Mitch stilled their movements and stepped back. "Allison said the plane will meet us at ten."

Jamie was the first one downstairs after a quick shower. Fran greeted her with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning."

"Morning," Jamie returned.

"Sit down," Fran directed. "Breakfast will be ready in about twenty minutes. You want some orange juice or milk?"

"I'll get it," Jamie waved off her aunt's attempts to get her to sit and moved to the cupboard. "Thanks for letting us stay here."

"Oh, nonsense," Fran fussed and dried her hands on the dish towel near the sink before returning to the oatmeal cooking on the stove.. "It's been wonderful having you home again."

"Well, it's been wonderful being home again," Jamie smiled. She filled her glass with juice and sat down at the table. "You're sure it's okay for Dianne and Clem to stay while we're gone?"

"Of course! They're family." Fran turned around with a more serious expression. "Do you know how long you'll be gone?"

Jamie shook her head sadly. "I don't. A couple weeks, at least. Maybe a month? I have no idea."

"Well don't let them run you ragged," Fran pointed with her spoon, though none of the oatmeal on it slipped off onto the floor. "The good Lord knows you've done enough."

"I won't," Jame promised. "Honestly, I think Mitch is going to be the busiest of us. Everyone is going to want to know how he made the cure."

"Then you make sure to take care of him," Fran said. "Don't be afraid to use your trump card once in a while."

"My trump card?" Jamie inquired.

Fran just smiled knowingly. "You're his wife," she explained. "If he ever gets too busy and you think he needs a break, just tell him you miss him and you want to spend some time with your husband. He'll have to take some time off."

Jamie laughed. "Have you ever had to do that with Uncle Bo?"

"Oh heavens, yes," Fran sounded almost proud. "Works every time. Sometimes, he even feels guilty enough to buy me a present."

"Aunt Fran!"

"What?" the older woman chuckled. "Oh, it's a win for everyone, dear. But be careful, because that road goes both ways."

Jamie doubted that either she or Mitch would ever get so busy that they would forget about the other, but she filed the advice away anyway. It was weird to be getting marital advice from her aunt, and for a moment she was hit with the sad realization that it should have been her mom standing there talking to her about all of this. But as quickly as it had come, it faded. Her mom was gone, and Jamie had to stop living in the past. This woman had taken her niece in without hesitation and raised her like a daughter, and Jamie had taken her for granted for far too long.

Fran was surprised when Jamie wrapped her arms around her from behind, but she stopped stirring long enough to turn and hug her properly. "What's this for?"

"For always being there for me," Jamie spoke into her shoulder. "I know I was sort of a brat when I was younger, but you and Uncle Bo always treated me like I was one of your own. I'm really, really glad that you took me in after Mom died, and I love all of you so much."

Fran's arms tightened, and when she spoke again her voice was rough with tears. "Oh, sweet pea, we love you, too. You never have to thank us for taking care of you. You're family, and this will always be your home no matter how far away you are."

They stood there for a few more moments gathering themselves and drying tears, and as Uncle Bo and Reese walked in they were chatting about things Jamie had missed in Folsom in the years since she'd left for college.

Everyone else slowly trickled in throughout the morning, and by the time the sun was peeking over the treetops the kitchen was bustling with the activity of nine people and one rambunctious pup. Jamie was perched in Mitch's lap as they shared a plate, talking about their plans between bites.

"Allison sent me a very tentative itinerary," Mitch said. "We're briefing the President and his Cabinet on Saturday, then we fly to California on Sunday for a press conference at the Salk Institute on Monday. After that, we're supposed to go to Europe for 'an indefinite amount of time.'"

"I've always wanted to go to Europe," Fran said wistfully.

Jamie just snorted. "Our last visit was rather memorable, wasn't it?"

"Oh sure," Dariela agreed. "Wait, what are you referring to? Killer bugs in England, thousands of venomous spiders in Portugal or our chasing crazy-Jackson through the streets of Helsinki?"

"All of the above," Jamie laughed.

"Oh my," Fran sighed. "Jamie, I can't wait to read your book. I imagine it's going to be quite a story."

Mitch nudged her slightly with his free hand as he scooped another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. "How's that coming, by the way?"

"Slowly," she admitted. "But I think I've compiled enough to start writing. I've never written a book before. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Bo said. "But it's about time for you to go."

Sure enough, it was nearing half past nine and they had to get to the airfield by ten. There was a flurry of activity as everyone finished up breakfast and gathered in the living room for a round of goodbyes. Mitch started with Jamie's family, so Jamie reached for Dianne first.

"Take care of each other," the older woman - her mother-in-law - whispered in her ear. "And keep in touch."

"Of course," Jamie promised. "We'll be back as soon as we can."

She moved from Dianne to Clem, pulling the girl tightly against her. In a moment of boldness, she dropped a kiss into her hair. "See you later, Clem." She wanted to say more, to tell her that she loved her, but she wasn't sure Clem was ready to hear it. They'd just met a couple weeks ago, and so much had changed for the girl in such a short time. Jamie was unsure how such a declaration would be perceived, but it was no less true for the hesitance she felt in uttering it.

Clem pulled back first. "Stay safe."

Jamie ran her fingers through the girl's hair affectionately. "We will.

Jamie hugged Reese just as Mitch released his hand. "It was good to see you," she told him. "Say goodbye to Charlie and Sam for me?"

"Sure thing." He squeezed her tightly, then let go. "Take care of yourself."

Jamie nodded and stepped up to her uncle. She melted into his embrace eagerly, soaking in the warmth and love he seemed to always exude. She would miss all of her family dearly, but her uncle had always held a special place in her heart - probably because he had been the one with the closest connection to her mother.

"You come back home soon, bug," he told her firmly. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Uncle Bo. Thanks for everything." She kissed his cheek quickly, earning a soft smile and a fatherly pat against her shoulder.

Fran was last, and Jamie had no words for the woman. They embraced quickly, and Jamie held on tightly as she felt Fran's shoulders shake beneath her hands. "We'll be back soon," she promised. "I'll be back before you know it."

"You just take care of that husband of yours," Fran wiped her eyes and stepped back. "And yourself, too. Be careful out there, and don't forget to call."

"I will," Jamie said. "I'll call you tonight after we land."

"Jamie." It was Jackson, his voice soft and apologetic. She nodded at him and wiped her own tears away as she joined the others by the door. Mitch was just releasing Clem, and Jamie wasn't surprised to see she wasn't the only one fighting to stay composed. Clem was leaning into her grandmother's side as her father walked away, and Jamie offered the girl an encouraging smile.

"Thank you for everything," Abe addressed the group. "We are grateful for your hospitality."

"You're very welcome," Fran tutted. "And don't be strangers. Our home is always open to you."

Jamie's friends chorused their thanks, then shuffled out the door quickly. The Hummer was a tight fit, but they agreed that taking one vehicle was better than two. Allison had been either unclear or unsure about sending their plane, and Mitch didn't want to risk leaving two cars unattended at the airport for an indefinite period of time. Reese had promised to retrieve the Hummer if they ended up in a plane that wasn't their own, and Mitch had gone with him the day before to make a copy of the key.

Jamie turned in her seat as Abe drove away, wanting to keep the farmhouse in her view for as long as possible. As they crested the hill and the house disappeared over the ridge, Jamie felt a jolt of homesickness that she hadn't felt since her first year of college.

She felt Mitch's hand slip over hers, and she laced their fingers together as she turned back around. "You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Let's get this over with so we can come back soon."

The plane waiting for them was most definitely not theirs, and Jamie shot a quick text to Reese to let him know to pick up the Hummer when he could.

"It looks small," Jackson commented as they unloaded their bags from the back of the car.

"It'll be a tight fit," Abe agreed, "but we'll manage."

It was a bit more spacious on the inside than it looked, but they were still a lot more cramped than they were used to. Their pilot introduced herself as Shannon Daugherty and told them they'd be taking off in just a few minutes.

"Not even a mini-bar," Mitch lamented as they buckled in. "Allison is definitely getting an earful when we get to D.C."

No one spoke as they thundered down the runway and lifted from the ground; it was entirely unlike any of their takeoffs with Trotter. The flight from Louisiana to Washington D.C. normally took almost two and half hours. Daugherty promised to shave as much time as she could, but there were storms over Tennessee that would likely detour them.

"It's fine," Jamie pulled out her laptop and powered it on. "That gives me time to go through the finer points of press briefings with all of you."

Allison met them on the tarmac as they deplaned. Jamie thought she might have looked a little more haggard than the last time she saw her, but that was probably to be expected. With the success of the cure, the Deputy Secretary of Defense was likely at the forefront of all operations. It had been her team, after all, no matter how much Jamie hated the idea.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Allison dove right into business as they were ushered toward a large stretch sedan. It was standard issue black - _and probably bulletproof_ , Jamie mused as they slid into the plush interior. The ride to the Capitol was short, but Jamie could tell so much had changed in the few weeks since their last visit. There were more people out, for one. People were slowly beginning to pick up their lives again, learning how to navigate this new world as they tried to restore some semblance of normal for themselves. Grocery store lots were half-full, and there were even people playing in a park.

"Things are slowly getting back to normal," Allison told them. "But there are still a lot more questions than answers."

"Well, that's what we're here for," Mitch quipped. "Just point us in the direction of the grand council or whatever it is and let's get this over with."

"It isn't that easy," Allison snapped. It was clear she was still miffed about Mitch's rather abrupt exit last week. Jamie resisted the urge to interject on his behalf; he could hold his own against Allison just fine. "The President and his Science Council came to me last week with a litany of questions that I couldn't answer. That's why I needed you all. We can't begin to move forward without knowing how exactly we got here."

"You want us to tell our story?" Abe asked pointedly. "All of it?"

"Yes," Allison nodded as she unlocked her tablet and began swiping through emails. "And don't worry about those NDA's you signed. The President has already ordered for a compelled disclosure in the interest of national security."

Jackson perked up in his seat. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Allison looked up from her screen briefly, "that the non-disclosure agreements you signed are now null and void."

Jamie reeled at the implications of Allison's words. Reiden no longer had a hold over them; they were free to tell their story. Still, there was something Allison wasn't saying, and it took a moment for the pieces to connect in Jamie's head.

"Thank you, Allison."

Her suspicions were confirmed the moment the other woman looked up. She didn't insult Jamie's intelligence by feigning ignorance, but neither did she openly accept her gratitude. Instead, she just returned her attention to her emails and let the matter drop. It was the best Jamie could probably hope for.

They pulled into a parking garage ten minutes later, and there were about a dozen Secret Service members standing around in various stages of alertness. It could only mean one thing - the President was on the premises.

"What's he like?" Jamie whispered to Mitch as they were escorted into an elevator by two agents and an aide.

"The President?" Mitch shrugged. "Uh...he's, presidential. I don't know, you've seen him on the news. He's like that."

None of them uttered a word after that as they were rushed through a dizzying series of hallways. They passed groups of men and women in uniforms or expensive clothes talking in hushed tones, and more than once the whispering stopped as they walked by. Jamie felt the curious stares on her back as Allison and the aide led the procession to a set of heavy oak double doors.

Jamie had heard the term "war room" before, but this was the first one she'd ever seen in person. A large square table sat in the center, its dark wood gleaming under the fluorescent light overhead. Eight identical chairs surrounded it, their black wire frames selected for function rather than form. Banks of computers lined one wall, though only a few were manned at the moment. The opposite wall was covered floor to ceiling with a map of the country. Closer inspection revealed that it was, in fact, one large smart screen. There were several regions on the map highlighted in various colors - probably to indicate the danger level at each of those locations - and Jamie wasn't surprised to see most of the major cities with large red circles around them.

A round table sat near the back corner, and it was here that a small group of people had gathered. The aide that had been escorting them gestured for them to wait, and he stepped forward a few more paces to address the group.

"Mr. President?"

The crowd parted, and there he was. Jamie was hit with a sort of surreal wave of disbelief as he stepped forward with a tired smile. The aide introduced them as "Miss Shaw's Team," but Jamie was too overwhelmed to be offended.

"Welcome back, Dr. Morgan," the President extended his hand toward Mitch who took it briefly. "And thank all of you for coming. Secretary Shaw has told me all about your work. I have to say, it's quite an incredible tale. The world owes all of you a great debt."

Surprisingly, it was Dariela who answered. "Thank you, sir." She was ramrod straight as her military training kicked in and she stood at perfect attention.

"At ease, Lieutenant," the President smiled, then turned to Allison. "Have they been given accomodations yet?"

"Not yet, Mr. President," Allison spoke so deferentially it was hard to believe it had been her who had spoken. "We wanted to introduce them to you first."

"Very good," he nodded. "I believe your briefing is tomorrow at nine o'clock. We're all looking forward to hearing more about the cure and your adventures." He turned back to his advisors and was immediately drawn into the conversation again, leaving the team standing alone with Allison and the aide.

"Come on," Allison gestured toward the door. "We'll get you settled in your rooms."

The door shut behind them as they exited, and Jamie felt her shoulders relax. She hadn't realized she was nervous, but now that it was over she could feel the jitters that suddenly left her. Next to her, she saw Abe and Jackson loosen up as well.

"I thought you already briefed the President," Jamie leaned over to whisper to Mitch.

"I did," he said. "But it wasn't anything in depth. I talked to the Council once, but that was just to let them know that the cure had worked, that the animals weren't a threat any longer, and that we had a whole new problem to face now." Jamie knew he was talking about the worldwide sterility problem that affected every human on the planet. "Honestly, I'm surprised he remembered me. Our meeting was brief and uneventful. And I left rather abruptly the next morning."

"Where are we going?" Abe spoke up from the back of the group, his deep voice echoing off the walls.

Allison glanced over her shoulder quickly. "There's a tunnel system that will take us to the hotel across the street. We've already set up rooms for you."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. I wonder if the public knows the government has a series of secret tunnels beneath the city."

Allison stopped at that and turned with a stern glare. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that anything you see or hear within these walls is strictly confidential, and in the interest of national security you will not utter a word about it. Is that understood?"

Jamie had mostly been joking, but Allison's severe tone set her hackles up. She returned the woman's icy stare with one of her own. "Of course."

"We need to focus on the important matters," Allison whirled around and continued leading them through the halls. "There's a packet in each of your rooms that gives you the rundown of your schedule, as well as the talking points we'd like you to focus on. You won't be talking to the press - not yet, anyway. We need to make sure we have a full grasp of all of the information before we unintentionally start a mass panic."

She opened a door using her keycard, and the slate gray concrete walls beyond were a jarring change from the wood paneled corridors they had just come down. It was noticeably cooler in the tunnel, though that was to be expected as they walked beneath the city street. Jamie shivered slightly from the temperature change and hoped no one had noticed.

If anyone thought six people exiting a nondescript door into the lobby of the hotel was odd, they didn't show it. The man behind the desk barely looked up, offering Allison a feeble wave as they passed him on their way to the elevators.

They rode in silence up to the top floor, which could apparently only be accessed via keycard. Jamie thought about making a joke about going out for dinner and not being able to get back to their rooms, but decided against it. Allison didn't look like she was in a joking mood.

"You have the whole floor," Allison said as they stepped off the elevator into a second smaller lobby. Unlike the rest of the hotel, there were no long hallways dotted with doors. Instead, the entire center area was a circular communal space with couches and chairs. A large television was mounted on the back wall, and several complicated looking remotes sat on a small coffee table in front of the middle couch. Three doors sat on each curved wall on either side, no doubt leading to spacious suites given the size of the hotel they were in. A small hallway sat just to the left of the elevator, and Jamie caught a glimpse of a small conference room through an open door as Allison breezed into the center of the sitting area.

"The room doors don't lock," she told them. "Each one has its own en suite bathroom that does, though. I'll be by around eight o'clock tomorrow to go over any questions you have. Get a good night's sleep and be ready." She turned to leave, but Dariela blocked her path.

"Hang on," she held out her hands to stop Allison's exit. "You can't just leave us here. What about meals? Or clothes?"

Allison turned and pointed to a small white telephone mounted on the wall next to the elevator. "That phone connects you to someone at the front desk. They can bring you anything you need. Only two people in this hotel have access to this floor, and they've both been vetted thoroughly by Secret Service. As for clothes…" she trailed off and glanced at the rest of them. "I'm guessing none of you brought appropriate attire?"

"Appropriate for what?" Jackson asked.

Allison looked exasperated, and Jamie could hear the derision in her tone as she answered. "For addressing the President and his Cabinet. At the very least, you should comb your hair."

"Okay," Mitch stepped up and cut in before things could get ugly. "Look, we're here because you asked us. And not nicely, either, I might add. So instead of being nasty, perhaps you should be grateful and find us something wear that isn't jeans and t-shirts. Because I have absolutely no problem standing up in front of a large crowd of high-ranking officials in my sneakers."

Allison stared him down for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. Send me your sizes and I'll send someone out to get something for you."

Jamie could tell by the looks on her friends' faces that they were as enthusiastic about that solution as she was. "Why can't we just go shopping ourselves? We have the time."

"No, you don't," Allison corrected. "You need to familiarize yourself with the information in your packets."

"We lived it," Jamie shot back. "I'm pretty familiar with it."

But Allison was done with their little game. "Despite what you may think, I actually don't have the time to stand here and argue. This is how things are right now. I'm sorry if it feels inconvenient, but we're trying to restore order to an entire country. To the _world_. Your fashion choices aren't exactly high on my priority list. Someone will be by later." She stepped around Dariela and into the elevator before anyone else could protest.

"I think she's warming up to us," Dariela joked, earning her wry smiles from the rest of them.

"We should probably find our packets," Abe reasoned. They picked rooms and set their stuff inside, swapping their luggage for the bland manila folders sitting on the beds. Each room only had one, so Jamie and Dariela grabbed two from the spares and met the others in the central area.

Sometime later the elevator dinged, and the doors opened to admit a rather mousy looking man with styled black hair and a nice suit. He was on the young side - maybe a few years behind Jamie - but he looked competent enough. He fidgeted with the strap of the messenger bag hanging across his chest as he stepped out and introduced himself.

"Miss Shaw sent me to assist you," he spoke quickly in spurts, like he was used to someone interrupting him all the time. "I'm David, David Grier."

"Come in," Jackson beckoned, gesturing to an empty chair.

David crossed the space in long strides and sat on the very edge of the cushion as he pulled a tablet from his bag. "Miss Shaw said I should let you shop from the store's website and I'll go pick it up later." He handed the device to Jackson and let his hands fall into his lap, his fingers laced together tightly to keep from moving. He looked so high-strung, though if he worked for Allison it was probably hard not to be a little stressed out all the time.

Dariela stood up and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge under the television. She tossed it to David, who barely managed to catch it. "Relax kid."

He did, but just barely. When it was Jamie's turn to select her outfit she browsed the business section thoroughly. She'd never addressed anyone as prominent as the President and his advisors; she guessed her usual working attire wouldn't cut it. In the end, she selected a simple skirt and blouse combo that she thought looked super boring but professional. She added shoes and pantyhose, then went ahead and ordered a makeup kit just in case. Satisfied that she'd gotten everything, she passed the tablet off to Dariela and turned to David.

"So how long have you worked for Allison?"

"Uh, t-two, no, three years," he stammered.

Mitch let out a humorless laugh. "Wow, that long? Usually it takes her a lot less time to break someone's will to live."

"Mitch," Jamie hissed at him, then turned to David with an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"No," David shook his head and seemed to relax a fraction. "She can be...demanding. But she knows what she's doing and she has good connections. My parents don't understand why I put up with everything, but if I want to get anywhere in this town I have to pay my dues."

"So what do you do for her, other than run her errands?" Mitch asked snidely.

"Keep up with her schedule," David ticked off points with his fingers, "answer the phone, proofread her reports, that sort of thing. It's not glamorous work, but it'll pay off in the end."

Jamie could sense Mitch was going to follow that up with something less than kind, so she jumped in before he could say anything. "Where are you from?"

"Pennsylvania, originally," David answered. "My folks still live in Allentown."

"Done," Dariela brandished the tablet proudly toward David.

He took it and glanced at the screen for a moment before nodding. "I should be back in a couple of hours with this." He stood and shoved the tablet into his bag. "It was nice meeting all of you." He scampered away almost comically fast, and Jamie glared at Mitch.

"What?"

"You scared him," she chided softly, then stood. "David, wait." Jamie closed the distance between them and pitched her voice low so her friends couldn't hear. "Could you maybe pick something else up for me?"

She spoke with him a few more minutes, detailing exactly what she needed, then thanked him profusely as the elevator arrived and he stepped inside. When she joined her friends, they were all staring expectantly.

Mitch beat the others to the question. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Jamie shrugged as she sat down. "I just asked him to pick up something else for me."

"What?"

"Something personal."

Mitch looked positively delighted. "Please tell me you just ordered lingerie on the government's dime."

Jamie just rolled her eyes and opened her folder, ready to pick up where they'd left off at David's interruption. It was tedious, and more than once they had to take a break before they argued themselves in circles, but by the end they all felt more comfortable with the material and they had a rough idea of how the meeting would go.

David returned a little over two hours after he'd left. The poor boy was laden with shopping bags, and Jackson rushed to help him as he stumbled off the elevator.

"Men always gotta make it in one trip," Dariela quipped.

"Give the poor boy a break," Jamie laughed. "It's like twenty stories one way."

They divvied everything up and laughed at Mitch's expression when he realized there was, in fact, no lingerie to be found. Jamie had found the small bag quickly and stuffed it under her clothes before anyone saw. When she scooped it all up into her arms, it was tucked safely beneath her bundle. She was halfway to her room when Jackson asked where she was going.

"Gotta try it all on," she said by way of explanation.

Abe sighed as Dariela disappeared into their room to do the same. "I hope it all fits for David's sake."

Jamie shut the door behind her and dumped her clothes on the bed. She grabbed the bag and pulled the item out, smiling as she inspected her secret purchase. Realizing Mitch could walk in at any moment, she tucked it into her pocket and set to the task of trying on the outfit she'd picked out.

Dinner passed in much the same way it always had with her friends when they had down time - lots of laughs and semi-embarrassing stories. Jamie listened to Mitch's horrific homecoming tale and tried not to laugh too hard. Jamie had gone to homecoming with her friends, and had even spent an enjoyable portion of the evening with her sweetheart. Mitch had reluctantly taken his mother's coworker's demanding daughter, and Jamie could guess how it had turned out.

"Did you kiss her goodnight?" Dariela was reclined in her chair, one hand resting on her stomach and other other curled around a glass of water.

"God no," Mitch shook his head sharply. "I didn't even turn off my car. Just got out, walked her to her door and left."

"At least you didn't kick her out at the curb," Jackson chortled.

Mitch finished the rest of his soda in one long swallow. "Believe me, I thought about it."

"Alright," Jamie stood and stretched. "I'm gonna turn in. What time do we have to be up?"

"Allison said she'd be here at eight," Abe reminded her.

That meant Jamie needed to be up by six-thirty. "Ugh. Fine. Goodnight."

"I'll be there in a bit," Mitch told her, standing to kiss her as she passed. "I'm gonna help Jackson clean up."

Jamie slipped into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, washed her face and made it all the way to the bed before she remembered her prize. She dug through her clothes until her fingers curled around it. She pulled it from her pocket and stared at it for a moment as though it held the secret to cure the butterflies that had suddenly sprung up in her stomach. She slid under the covers still holding onto it, and she didn't bother trying to hide it as the door opened and Mitch came in.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey." She watched him as he stripped down to his boxers, going through almost the same routine she had to get ready for bed. She was on her side facing him when he laid down, and his eyes immediately fell on her clenched fist.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh nothing," she propped herself up on her other elbow and turned her hand over. "This is what I had David pick up today. And don't worry, I gave him my own money to buy it. Well, it was Uncle Bo's money, but I promised him I'd pay him back." Her fingers relaxed, opening to reveal the small silver ring inside. "I have one, I figured you needed one, too."

In the dim yellow light from her bedside lamp she saw the emotions play across his face. Surprise, delight, love. Then he laughed and held out his left hand expectantly, and Jamie's earlier nervousness faded away. She slipped it on his third finger easily, but before she could retract her hand he grasped it and used it to pull her closer. She settled against his chest and kissed him, humming as his hand let hers go to rest against her cheek. It was one of the things she loved most about him, how he kissed her with his whole body. His hand that always seemed to cradle her face as though she were made of porcelain. His body angling just the right way to fit her against him perfectly. His lips that pushed and pulled against hers, never demanding or obsequious, but always a willing and eager partner.

She felt a familiar jolt of emotion pulse through her, and she reluctantly broke their kiss with a groan. "We have to get up early."

Judging from his blown pupils and quick breaths, her reasoning had fallen on deaf ears. "Or we could just take a nap tomorrow." His fingers were dancing across her pulse point, rendering the voice in her head silent. She tried to argue, knowing how horrid both of them were in the mornings after little to no sleep, but then he leaned in with a wicked grin and whispered against the shell of her ear. "We are still newlyweds, you know. We have a reputation to uphold."


	34. Interstices - Part 8

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 34: Interstices - Part Eight

 _With their whirlwind tour of the world over, the team attends one last function in Washington. Mitch receives bad news from Los Angeles._

* * *

It took nearly six weeks for the team to complete their round of press junkets, meetings and dinners. All of them were completely drained by the time they deplaned in D.C., and when Allison told them they had one last dinner before they were free Mitch almost mutinied. Only Jamie's hand on his arm stayed his tongue, and he let her take the lead as he fought the exhaustion creeping in.

Next to him, the others were looking just as ragged. Dariela's pregnancy was finally beginning to show, and it was clear the extra weight was throwing off her balance and tiring her out more easily than she was used to. Abe spent his time divided between the events and looking after Dariela, and Mitch was fairly certain he hadn't had more than four hours of sleep in a row for a month. Even Jackson, with his seemingly boundless energy, had dark circles under his eyes. He'd spent the last six weeks trying to explain his father's actions without apologizing for them, and in more than one country he was met with an almost distant coldness. He was now living under the shadow of a man who'd helped the Shepherds sterilize the entire human race, and it was beginning to wear on him.

Only Jamie seemed in her element at each function, greeting hosts and networking with various media people with the aplomb of someone who had mastered the business. Mitch had loved watching her, had enjoyed the confidence and grace she brought to each event. She had a light in her eyes he hadn't seen in a long time, and it had only grown brighter when the news had reached them from the states.

Reiden was being indicted on multiple charges, including bribery, conspiracy and several violations of the federal hazardous waste law. It was a small fraction of the crimes they were guilty of, but it was a start. In the past few weeks there had been more and more evidence piling up against them, and each time a story broke Mitch saw the burden Jamie had carried for almost twenty years lighten little by little.

"So what is this dinner?" Jackson asked as they stepped off of the elevator into the same top floor space they'd occupied just six weeks earlier.

"Allison was vague," Jamie told him, "but she did say it was black tie, and that we're attending as guests of the President. Apparently it's some state function?"

Abe stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and checked the time. "Well, whatever it is, we have almost seven hours before the car arrives so I vote for a nap."

"Seconded," Dariela agreed, disappearing almost immediately into the room she and Abe had claimed prior. "Wake me in five hours."

Everyone dispersed slowly, shuffling toward bedrooms to catch a little sleep before they had to get up and do it all one more time. Mitch detoured to the sofa, collapsing with a sigh against the firm cushions. Jamie paused at the door to their bedroom and glanced back at him.

"You coming?"

"You go ahead," he waved at her. "I'm gonna read for a bit."

He was suddenly wired and he doubted Jamie would appreciate him tossing and turning while she tried to sleep. She waved back and shut the door as Mitch reached for her laptop. He logged in to the account Jamie had created for him and got caught up on all of his emails - mostly by trashing the ones he didn't want to bother with and moving the rest to the "Deal With This Later" folder. There were a few he did answer, like the one from his mom asking when they would finally be finished and able to visit. She'd gotten a job in Baton Rouge at one of the schools that opened last week, and now that she'd regained access to her bank account she had enough money to put down first and last month's rent on an apartment in the city. Clem had moved with her and, though she was less than thrilled at having to go back to school, she seemed to be happy.

He had just hit send when the elevator dinged softly, opening to admit Allison. Mitch glanced at the clock, then back to her. "You're early."

"I am," she breezed in and stopped a few feet from him. "I was wondering if you and I could talk."

Mitch closed the laptop and set it on the table. "Shoot."

"In private," she elaborated, angling her body back toward the elevator. "There's a lounge downstairs where we won't be disturbed."

He didn't budge.

"Fine," she lowered herself in the chair opposite him and folded her hands in her lap. "I won't waste your time or mine by being unnecessarily enigmatic. The President has asked me to extend an informal invitation for you to become the Principal Assistant Director for Science. You'd answer directly to the DOSTP, who answers directly to the President. You'd be helping to shape policies and have key input regarding the government's scientific and technological advancements. Just say yes, and the President will announce it formally at dinner tonight."

For a moment, Mitch said nothing. It took him a moment to fully process her words and when he did he still didn't believe them. He knew Allison was only relaying a message, but he couldn't help but think that the idea hadn't been the President's to begin with. He wasn't sure what her game was, but even someone who'd only known him for a few hours would know that he'd hate that job.

"Allison, what -"

"You're going to waste here," she interrupted him. "You deserve to be at the fore of this new world we're crafting, not posing for pictures and eating overpriced dinners."

"You're the one who set up all those dinners," he countered hotly, his voice pitched low to keep from waking the others. "Not in a million years would I ever consider taking that job. I hate politics."

Allison straightened almost imperceptibly in irritation. "It's not like you have any other job offers lined up."

"Well, I haven't exactly had a lot of free time to go on job interviews, have I?" He stood and she did, too. "I think you should go now. We'll see you in a few hours."

But Allison rarely let anyone else get the last word. "Think about it."

Mitch didn't even turn around as she left. He sank back down onto the couch as the doors slid closed and the car started to descend. He replayed her offer over in his head and wondered what she could possibly have been thinking. His head fell back against the cushion and he blew out a breath through his nose. When that didn't relieve the headache he felt beginning to pound, he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You should."

Jamie's voice startled him so badly, he almost fell off the couch. She was leaning against the now-open doorway wrapped in a soft gray robe he recognized as the one she'd gotten in Tokyo. He replaced his glasses and sat up straighter as she came over and sank down next to him.

"What?"

She tucked one leg under her so she could sit facing him. "Think about it. It's quite an offer."

"Can you honestly see me working in government?" he asked her bluntly.

"No, but Allison's right about one thing. You don't have any other offers. None of us do." She tucked her hair over her ear in a gesture he recognized as a fidgeting habit rather than necessity. "Abe, Dariela and Jackson are going to back to Africa. They at least have the start of a plan. You and I? We don't have anything resembling a plan."

"You're writing a book," he pointed out.

"Hardly a lucrative career at the moment," she returned just as quickly. "I'm not saying you should take it, but I do think you should at least consider it."

"Well, I'm hoping to hear back from my colleagues at the L.A. Zoo. I emailed them before we left Japan, but I haven't heard back from anyone yet."

That seemed to surprise her. "Do you think any of the zoos survived? Or that anyone is going to want to go to a zoo soon?"

"I don't know," Mitch shrugged, reaching for the laptop again, "but I do know I'd rather be in a zoo than in some stuffy government office." He tried to make it clear in his tone that he didn't want to talk about it anymore, and she seemed to get the hint.

"Alright," Jamie reached out and squeezed his knee affectionately. "You should try to grab a nap before dinner." She used his leg to lever herself up, then retreated back into the bedroom. After one more check of his still-empty inbox, he joined her.

"Is it just me, or is this dinner way fancier than the other ones we went to?"

Mitch heard Jackson's quiet question but didn't answer, too busy searching for any familiar faces to worry about it. He had to agree, though; the throngs of military personnel in their dress uniforms and civilians in tuxedos and evening gowns made it clear that this was no ordinary dinner.

"Jamie said our table was somewhere on the north side of the ballroom," he told Jackson. "Do you have any idea which way is north?"

Jackson jabbed a finger off to their left. "That way." It was the same direction as the raised dias, bedecked in an ornate cloth and emblazoned with the President's Seal. Various Cabinet members and their spouses were already seated up there, though the President himself was nowhere to be found.

"There they are," Jackson pointed out, and Mitch glanced over. Abe was hard to miss, standing almost a full head above the others around him. The white shirt of his tuxedo was a stark contrast to his dark skin and black jacket, and as they approached he fiddled absently with the bowtie around his neck.

Dariela swatted his hand away as Mitch and Jackson joined the others. Jamie was absent, but it only took her a few seconds to materialize from a small group of gathered partygoers off to the right. Both women had dressed to the nines, having disappeared down to the hotel's spa and salon around five. Mitch hadn't seen them since.

"Wow." It was the only thing he could manage to say, stunned as he was at the approaching woman. Jamie had found a deep green gown, cut perfectly and shaped to every curve of her body. Her hair had been twisted into an elegant updo, and the makeup she wore was just enough to highlight every perfect feature of her face.

"That was the effect I was going for," Jamie smiled. "And may I say that tuxedo looks ravishing on you." Her hands moved to his lapels, tugging gently to pull him down for a kiss. His hands fell to her waist automatically, and he couldn't help but caress the soft fabric with his fingertips.

"Alright you two," Dariela warned teasingly. "Save it for later."

Mitch was content to ignore her, but Jamie pulled away with a coy little smile and stepped back. "I'm glad Allison gave us a heads up on the dress code tonight," she said. "We would have been woefully underdressed."

Mitch opened his mouth to make a very smooth comment about her never looking out of place, but the microphone squealed quickly and the MC for the evening announced the arrival of the President and his wife. Everyone stood, turned toward the dias and clapped politely as the couple waved in greeting and took their seats.

The MC waited until the applause died down before continuing. "If everyone will find their seats, we can begin tonight's celebration."

"Celebration?" Abe whispered as they each found their place. Small white cards sat on each plate, each inscribed with their names in a loopy gold font.

Mitch held Jamie's chair as she sat in the seat next to his. "You think the President is more of a balloons or confetti guy?" He ignored Jamie's quiet warning to behave as he sat down, angling his chair so he could better see what was happening on the platform.

"Thank you," the MC said. He was a young-ish guy, early thirties probably, with neatly coiffed blonde hair. He looked comfortable at the microphone, and among the nation's leaders, so Mitch guessed he'd done this before. The man waited a few seconds for the susurrus to die out before he began his speech. "Good evening Mr. President, assembled members of the Cabinet, members of Congress, ladies and gentleman. Thank you for coming to this very special dinner, on a night none of us believed could be possible just a few months ago. My name is Brad Heltzer, and I am your Master of Ceremonies…"

Mitch tuned out Brad the MC and began to look around. As he did, he realized he did recognize a few of the attendees. One of the doctors that pioneered research for childhood diseases was sitting with her husband near the opposite wall. Mitch had met with her a few times back when Clem was seven or eight to see what could be done about his daughter's Glazier's Disease. She had been regretful that she couldn't be more help, but she had opened some doors for trials and tests that Mitch would have otherwise missed. Clem hadn't gotten better, but Mitch had always felt bad for not thanking the woman more for everything she had done. Perhaps tonight he could.

A few tables away from her sat Doctor Timothy Kevins, a renowned ecologist and mathematician. Mitch had read a few of his publications and only recognized him from the photos that often accompanied the articles. In fact, the more Mitch focused on the crowd, the more he began to piece together what tonight was really about.

"Uh, guys?"

Jamie waved discreetly, her eyes never leaving the speaker. "Shh!"

Brad was winding down his welcome speech. "...going to have a great evening. Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States."

Everyone applauded again as the President stood and shook Brad's hand. He stepped up to the podium and held his hands up to get everyone to settle.

"Thank you," he spoke clearly, his voice crisp and booming. Mitch wondered if he even need a mic. "I'd like to thank all of you for joining me tonight. As Brad said, it's a night none of us were sure we'd ever experience again. We've been through some terrible times, but the people of the world rose to meet the challenge with courage and steadfast determination. Even when the odds seemed impossible, even when all hope seemed lost, we never wavered. We believed that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. We believed that - as we have always done in the past - we would find a way to persevere and triumph over the trials that we faced.

"None of us is untouched. There isn't one person in this room who didn't experience a loss of some kind over the past two years. Whether it be professional or personal, we have sacrificed. But I would like to take a moment to honor those who lost their lives to this great tragedy."

The room fell silent. Not even a rustle of fabric could be heard as the gathered observed a moment of silence. Mitch felt Jamie's hand slip into his own, and he knew that she - like him - was thinking about Chloe. Chloe, who would have been right at home in a setting like this, who had kept them focused and driven even when their support system had been revealed to be a house of cards. Chloe, who had known the mission was more important than any one person, who had ultimately given her life to stop the end of the world.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun it was over. "Thank you. Most of you know why we are here today. In times like these, it's important to restore a sense of normalcy. Recovering from something like this won't be easy or quick. Each of us will heal in our own time and learn how to move forward. But before we do, we must acknowledge the work that led us here. None of this," he gestured grandly around the room, "would be possible without the tireless efforts of these men and women." His hand stopped just a little to his right, his hand outstretched palm up toward Mitch and his friends.

Suddenly all eyes were on them, and Mitch fought the urge to squirm. They'd been the center of attention at a number of functions in the past six weeks, but it never got less awkward for him. He wondered why Allison hadn't given them a heads up; it wasn't as if they would have said no to the President.

"Will the five of you please come up here?"

Mitch froze in surprise at the request, but as Abe stood up so did he. He helped Jamie up the steps before following her, coming to rest just next to her as the President turned slightly to address them while still talking into the mic.

"This team of amazing individuals took on a task that many of us would have shied from. I, and many of my Cabinet members, have heard their incredible story firsthand. I believe Miss Campbell is currently drafting a book based on it, so I won't spoil anything," he smiled charmingly at Jamie who just smiled back, "but let me just say that there are moments that are simply unimaginable. They faced danger head on, pieced together the puzzle and crafted a cure all in the span of a few months. Unfortunately, the mutation in the animals proved a more formidable foe, and it would take another year of work to finally find a solution that worked. They showed bravery in the face of impossible odds, and through their work they saved the lives of - not only every American - but every single man, woman and child in the world.

"So allow me to extend my thanks. As President of the United States, on behalf of the American people. As a citizen of the world, on behalf of all of us. Thank you." He turned toward the man sitting just to his left, and Mitch finally saw the long wooden box that had been sitting rather innocuously on the table.

The President turned with the box in his hand and gestured for them step up closer. "In acknowledgement of your achievement, and as humble thanks for your efforts, I hereby award to the five of you the nation's highest civilian honor, the Presidential Medal of Freedom." He opened the lid to reveal the medals, all laid neatly in dark purple velvet. He slid the first one out and turned toward them expectantly.

Mitch actually had to nudge Jamie forward when her name was called. She took one halting step, then seemed to regain her composure as she came to a stop next to the President. She lowered her head as he placed the medal around her neck, shook her hand and thanked her again. Her eyes were wide when she turned around to walk back, her lips mouthing a "wow" to them as the President called for Abraham. Dariela was next, then Jackson.

"Doctor Mitchell Morgan," the President announced, and Mitch shuffled forward awkwardly. He kept his eyes on the man in front of him and tried not to think about the hundreds of people just beyond who were staring at the moment with rapt attention. He shook the President's hand and accepted the medal, but before he could retreat back to the relative safety of his friends he was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Doctor Morgan, as many of you know, was a veterinary pathologist in Los Angeles before the Beast Rebellion. He's not a geneticist or a vaccine specialist. What he was asked to do should have been impossible, but according to every story I've heard about the man, he thrives on the impossible." A wave of chuckling pulsed through the crowd as the President reached back into his box. "And so, for his contributions to the field of genetic research, his devotion to scientific processes and discovery, and his pioneering work and distinguished service, I hereby award Doctor Mitchell Morgan the National Medal of Science."

Another medal was draped around his neck, the weight of it slightly less than the first. The President shook his hand again, though Mitch barely heard his thanks over the applause that followed. As he turned to walk back to his place in line, Mitch caught sight of one more medal encased within the box. He didn't have time to think about it as Jamie caught him in a congratulatory hug, followed by the other three. He accepted their praise almost robotically, his hands moving to embrace his friends even as his mind tried to analyze everything that had happened in the last few moments.

But the President wasn't done. "There is another member of their team that could not be with us tonight. Chloe Tousignant gave her life in Vancouver six months ago, making the ultimate sacrifice to save us all. She, like each of her teammates, is a hero and this ceremony would not feel right without acknowledging her contribution. Accepting the honor on her behalf is her sister, Nathalie Tousignant."

The room broke out into more applause as a young brunette with a somber expression ascended the steps. She was accompanied by a man in his mid-thirties, though Mitch didn't recognize him. They walked so closely together that Mitch could only see half of her body, and as she turned to face the President he saw why. Her left hand had been severed at the wrist. A memory surfaced of him standing in an IADG break room as Chloe revealed a dark truth.

" _They tied me to a chair and made me watch as they tortured my sister. They cut off her hand when I wouldn't tell them what they wanted to know, and it was made clear that if I didn't cooperate they would kill her."_

He remembered her face as she'd told him, the heartbreak and pain she'd been hiding from them as she forged ahead with their mission. There had been regret, too, and Mitch realized that Chloe had never gotten the chance to reconcile with her sister before she'd died. But Nathalie's presence now must mean that whatever had happened between the two women was all but forgotten.

The President handed the medal to Nathalie Tousignant and whispered a few private words to her. Nathalie nodded and gave the man a small smile through her tears. With one last handshake, Nathalie and her escort stepped back and took up a position on the opposite side of the podium from Mitch and the rest. He tried to catch her eye, to somehow communicate to Chloe's sister how sorry he was that he couldn't save her. Guilt began to creep over him as he stood there listening to the President talk about Chloe's illustrious career at the DGSE, her many accomplishments and her never-ending faith in the perseverance of the human race. With each word the medals around his neck grew heavier, like the chains of Jacob Marley. Her ambition, her compassion, her tenacity - all of it had been cut tragically short because Mitch hadn't been good enough to save her. She'd trusted him, befriended him, cared about him, and when she'd needed him most he'd failed her.

Mitch was so caught up in his own self-condemnation that he missed the last of the President's speech. Only the thunderous applause of the assembly jolted him out of his thoughts. He followed the others off the stage, very nearly stumbling down the steps before Abe discreetly paused just enough so Mitch could reach out a hand to his shoulder to steady himself. Every table they passed offered their congratulations, though Mitch barely heard them.

"You alright?" he heard Jamie whisper as they took their seats. The President had relinquished the mic to Brad once more, and the MC was relaying a particularly amusing-in-hindsight anecdote about his harrowing run in with a troop of escaped tamarins from the National Zoo.

"Yeah." It was only when he looked up that he realized Jamie hadn't been speaking to him at all. She'd been talking to Jackson.

The man's face was taut with irritation and Mitch recognized the fire of resentment in his eyes. He'd had the same look for the first few days after he'd found out his father was still alive. At Jamie's question, his brow furrowed and he shook his head.

"It's just that guy," he spoke quietly, mindful of the MC and the surrounding tables. "The one with Nathalie? That's Chloe's ex-fiance. He…" A muscle in Jackson's jaw twitched as his eyes cut over to the table where the two sat in close proximity. "Chloe caught them together before the wedding. She called off the engagement, but since the honeymoon trip was already paid for she went to Africa on her own."

"Where she met you," Abe nudged his oldest friend gently. "Things unfolded as they should have. Don't dwell on the negative, _rafiki_."

"Forget about it," Dariela seconded. "Enjoy the night."

The night lasted a lot longer than Mitch would have liked. Once the President ended the official portion of the evening, they were inundated with well-wishers from all sides. Mitch had never shaken so many hands in his life. He clenched and unclenched his hand reflexively as they ascended the twenty floors of the hotel in silence. All of them seemed completely spent, and as soon as the doors opened they shuffled through the common area to their rooms with little more than mumbled goodnights.

Jamie jumped in the shower first. He had a brief inclination to join her, but the weariness in his heart stopped him. He probably wasn't going to be very good company tonight. He almost opted for sleeping on one of the sofas in the common area, but thought twice. The others would no doubt poke and prod the next morning if they found him out there and not in bed with his wife. And so he slipped the medals off of his neck and laid them on the dresser next to Jamie's. He stared at them for a moment, his eyes mapping the gold eagles outstretched around the star on the Medal of Freedom, then the more simplistic circle of the Medal of Science.

Not surprisingly, it was the second one that meant more to him. It was awarded to individuals of the highest scientific caliber, names like Van Niel, Nirenberg and Skinner. People he'd read about in textbooks. That, of course, led to the surreal realization that his name would soon be printed in a book for school children to read. He wondered if they'd print his failures along with his successes. He doubted it. A list like that might make them think twice about his current status as a hero of the people.

He sank down onto the bed bonelessly, his body finally giving up the fight to remain upright despite the exhaustion in his bones. He almost let his eyes fall closed, but the sound of the shower running through the closed bathroom door reminded him that he needed to stay awake for a few minutes longer. He definitely needed a long soak tonight.

He decided to check his emails in an effort to stay conscious, though he really didn't expect to find anything new since this afternoon. He was surprised, then, when two new subject lines appeared in bold print on his screen. One was obviously spam, which he dragged to the junk folder immediately. The other was from Daniel Hartcliff, Curator of Mammals for the Los Angeles Zoo.

 _Dr. Morgan,_

 _I am happy to hear that you survived the chaos of recent events. When you disappeared last June, several of us tried to track you down. I'm not sure if you've been keeping up with zoo news across the country. It's bad. Most zoos in major cities lost a lot of containment. Los Angeles suffered one of the worst at almost 80%. The AZA is currently in the process of assessing zoos and figuring out which ones are still capable of supporting their animal populations and which ones need to be shut down completely, like ours. Animals that have either been tracked down or never left their enclosures are being catalogued and sent to zoos that can house them. It's a slow process, but hopefully one day we can reopen._

 _I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but since most of the upper management is gone, I suppose I'm the only one who can. Of all of the veterinarian staff at the zoo, you're the only one still alive. There was an accident shortly after you disappeared. The vet staff and the lion keepers had moved the pride to the hospital for observation. Somehow the females escaped containment and killed both Dr. Bonner and Dr. Gaines, along with the techs, office staff and two of our volunteers. The zoo was closed completely after that, and I suppose you know the rest._

 _I am truly grateful for all you and your team have done to ensure the survival of not only the human race, but the whole of the animal kingdom. It was an honor to work with you and, should you need anything, my door is always open._

 _Best of luck,_

 _Daniel Hartcliff, Ph.D.  
Acting Director of Operations, Los Angeles Zoo_

Mitch sat on the bed in stunned silence for a moment, his fingers hovering over the keys. He didn't even know how to draft a reply to that. Gone. His colleagues at the hospital, their techs, even the receptionist...all dead.

 _Shortly after you disappeared...moved the pride to the hospital for observation._

Had it been his fault? He'd talked to Aspen just before he'd left (disappeared, the email had said), asking to borrow the cub to perform some tests. Had she relayed that to her supervisor after they couldn't find him? Had they assumed they could figure out what was happening by examining the rest of the pride?

Of course they had. It's what he would have done in their place.

Mitch slammed the laptop closed and tossed it less than gently onto the bed next to him. It bounced softly once then stilled. Mitch glared at it.

"Easy, cowboy. That laptop has the only copy of my manuscript right now." Jamie was done with her shower. He hadn't even heard the water shut off, too caught up in the downturn his evening had taken. She was dressed for bed in the flannel pants she always wore under a gray shirt she probably stole from one of her cousins. It had a faded gold fleur-de-lis outlined in black on the front and the name of what Mitch guessed was probably a sports team above it. The hem reached almost to her knees and the worn material looked soft, like it had been washed over and over again.

She must have seen something in his eyes, because the smirk fell from her face almost the moment he looked up. Her soft footfalls brought her to him and she sank onto the bed next to him, her slight weight barely dipping the mattress.

"What's wrong?"

Instinct made him shrug, dismissing her concern and his grim thoughts all in one gesture. "It's nothing," he told her, shifting his weight to stand. "I'll be out in a minute." He retreated to the bathroom quickly before she could stop him and pry it out of him. Because she would. His unwillingness to hurt her by keeping secrets from her aside, she was damn good at getting information out of people. It wouldn't be long before he was spilling all of the bleak, morbid thoughts that his mind had conjured in a short time.

He shut the door behind him, locking it after only a few seconds of deliberation. He wouldn't put it past her to barge in on his shower to get him to talk, and as much as he loved her he really needed to be alone right now. Jamie had hung her dress on a hanger on the back of the door, no doubt letting the steam from the shower work out any wrinkles it had acquired during the evening. Mitch just dropped everything in a pile and stepped into the hot spray, letting the momentary shock burn away the darkness that had begun to creep in.

At least ten people were dead because of him. When Jamie had called and asked if he'd accompany her to Louisiana, he'd only put up marginal resistance. The truth was, he was so enamored with her she probably could have asked him anything and he would have gone along. He'd cancelled his classes and used a couple of sick days to cover his zoo obligations, all because a woman he'd known for a week had asked him to fly halfway across the country on a longshot. He could have written up a report, left a note for the keepers - some kind of warning, anything - but instead he'd decided to keep things quiet (because technically he wasn't supposed to be using zoo resources for personal research). He'd lied to Aspen by omission, and hadn't thought twice. Of _course_ she would be curious. They were her animals, after all, and something was wrong with them.

So when Mitch hadn't returned from his sick leave, they'd obviously tried and failed to find him. It didn't take a genius to figure out where their minds had gone after that. Aspen would mention his interest in the lions, and in order to do the proper tests they would need some of them in the hospital. Instead of splitting the pride, which seemed to cause distress to all of the animals, they'd transferred all of the lions into quarantine. With Nick and Eddie gone, that left their breeding male, three females and two cubs. That decision had been their death sentence.

Mitch thought about the two vets he'd worked with, John Bonner and Emilia Gaines. They'd both been so welcoming when he'd first arrived at the zoo, and despite his rather gruff demeanor he hadn't taken him long to feel comfortable among his coworkers. They were all animal people, and animal people were Mitch's people. He couldn't remember if they'd left families behind. He guessed so. And their grief was his fault, too.

He bathed on autopilot, and as the last of the suds disappeared down the drain he shut off the water. He listened for a moment, wondering if Jamie had stayed up, but he could hear nothing over the sound of the drain. He toweled off quickly, cursing under his breath as he realized he hadn't brought anything to change into. He glanced at his tux, crumpled on the floor, and shook his head. He didn't even want to reach down to pick it up, much less put any of it back on. He wrapped the towel around his waist and unlocked the bathroom door.

He gasped quietly as the cold air from the bedroom hit his shower-warmed skin. Jamie was curled up on her side of the bed, the light from his lamp casting a soft yellow glow over her face. Her eyes were closed, but something about the way she held herself too still told Mitch she wasn't sleeping.

Still, he kept his steps as quiet as he could as he made his way to the suitcase sitting on the dresser. Neither of them had bother unpacking, unsure how long they would be staying here after tonight. He heard Jamie shifting behind him, and by the time he'd fished boxers and a white undershirt from his belongings he felt the warmth of her at his back.

"I'm sorry," she laid her hand lightly on his shoulder, pressing her palm into the space just below his neck.

Mitch tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible. "For what?"

"I got curious," she offered by way of explanation. "I read the email. I'm sorry about your friends. And for snooping," she added as an afterthought.

He wasn't even mad at her. Truthfully, he was glad he didn't have to explain it to her. Now that she knew, he could accept her condolences and move past it. "I'm alright," he promised her, turning to face her properly. Her hand slid over his shoulder and fell to his forearm, and she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and squeezed gently.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it right now," she shifted her fingers down a bit more, "But I'm here if you need me." And just like that she'd grasped his hand, anchored him in the storm of his own emotions.

He didn't really think about doing it, but suddenly he tugged and she was in his arms. He kissed her deeply, greedily, and she responded. He tried to tell her without words that he'd always need her, that life without her was not a life worth living, that if she ever left he would be lost beyond all hope or reason. He let her hand go to cradle her face in his palms, angling her under him in effort to get just that much closer, to fuse them together so tightly that nothing could tear them apart.

Another blast of cold hit him, and he realized that she'd untied his towel almost the same moment he'd let her hand go. He quickly replaced the warmth of the fabric with the warmth of her, and her hands slipped around his waist to caress his back. He hissed slightly as her fingers gently passed over his scars, the pinkish skin still sensitive to touch.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, moving her hands to rest on his hips. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Mitch shook his head and closed his eyes, willing the involuntary twitching of his lower back to stop. When it did he turned his head to survey the long, jagged marks in the mirror above the dresser, grimacing at the ugly crisscrossing that marred his skin. The doctor had stitched him up the best he could, but a cargo plane wasn't exactly the best place to do it. He'd been warned there would be scarring, but at the time his only thoughts had been to get to Clem and Jamie as fast as possible. Now he wished he'd gone to a hospital first; then maybe it wouldn't look so horrible.

"Don't," Jamie's palm came to rest against his cheek, and at her gentle insistence he turned back and looked down at her sadly. "I know what you're thinking, but I don't care. I wouldn't care if you had scars all over your body, I would still love you. They're a part of you, a part of us," she corrected sharply, reminding him of her own imperfections, "and I wouldn't change them. Scars are important, Mitch. Scars mean we _lived_."

She stepped forward just a bit more, fitting her smaller body against him completely. She draped her arms loosely around his back, but when his own tightened around her she reciprocated. Mitch didn't know how long they stood there tangled in each other, but when Jamie finally stepped away his skin was cool and dry. She kept hold of his hand as she walked back to the bed, and Mitch only faltered for a second before he dropped his clothes and joined her.


	35. Interstices - Part 9

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 35: Interstices - Part Nine

 _When tragedy strikes, Jamie must figure out how to navigate the hardships and pitfalls that arise._

* * *

Jamie looked up from her editor's notes with a heavy sigh. When she'd first gotten the idea for the book, she'd been excited at the prospect of telling their story. People deserved to know the truth. She just hadn't realized how much _work_ it was going to be.

This was the second time she'd sent her manuscript for editing and the second time she'd received it back with a litany of things to adjust, change or outright eliminate. A few things she could manage without, but the passage she was current working on was one she absolutely refused to erase.

Her computer chimed brightly, and her sour mood lifted. It was the email she had been expecting from Mitch. He hadn't accepted the President's offer of joining the Science and Technology Council, nor had he resumed his position at the L.A. Zoo. Just as she had predicted, zoos around the country had been shut down, either temporarily or permanently depending on how badly they had fared during the Beast Rebellion. Mitch had been contracted by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums to assist with the care and transport of animals remaining in various zoos across the country. It meant he had to travel quite a bit, but Jamie had settled in with Dianne and Clem in Baton Rouge to finish her book.

It had taken almost six months to write and another two or so to find an editor she trusted. Edits, rewrites and battles won and lost meant another few months gone. At this rate, Jamie was afraid she'd never get her book out to the public. Sometimes it felt like the entire world was working against her, that once again she was fighting a one-woman war against an insurmountable enemy.

"Jamie!"

 _And sometimes…_

She turned with a smile as Clementine slipped through the door, her face alight with a grin that reminded Jamie of the girl's father. "How was school?"

Clem sank down in the chair next to her. "Good. Guess what?"

"What?"

"I got a text from Dad. He's coming home tomorrow!" She was practically bouncing in her seat, and Jamie shared in her delight. Mitch had been gone for a while - almost four weeks this time - and she missed him.

"I saw the email," she told Clem. "Does Dianne know?"

"I told her on the way home," Clem was still nearly vibrating. "Do you think he'll be back before school's out tomorrow?"

"Clem," Jamie warned, "you still have to go to school."

Predictably, her face fell. "But -"

Jamie just held up a hand. "Tell you what," she cut off the girl's protest before she could get going. She still hadn't quite mastered the "stern parent" mentality, and Clem often got her way if Dianne wasn't around to enforce rules. "If he comes back early, we'll come sign you out."

Clem deflated, the joy in her eyes morphing into disappointment, then anger. "Fine." She stood and scooped her bookbag off of the floor where she'd dropped it in her enthusiasm. "I have homework."

Jamie watched her leave, waiting until she heard the bedroom door close before letting out a sigh.

"Well done." Dianne breezed through the door and parked her tote in its customary spot next to the sofa.

Jamie offered her a weary smile in return. "How was your day?"

"Oh, it was fine, dear," the older woman lowered herself into the chair Clem had just vacated. "How is the book going?"

"I'm not sure," Jamie sighed again, this time one of frustration. "My editor doesn't seem to understand the meaning of the word 'no.'"

Dianne hummed something that might have been sympathy. "Still trying to cut that chapter?"

"Try being the operative word," Jamie scowled. "I'm not cutting it, or rewriting it. He can just deal."

"Tea?"

"Sure." Jamie turned back to her laptop as Dianne retreated into the kitchen, her voice raised to reach back and continue the conversation.

"Have you told him why it's so important to you?"

"I have," Jamie re-read the notes left along with her manuscript. "I don't think he understands."

Dishes clinked lightly as Dianne prepared the kettle. "What about his other notes? Maybe if you agree to implement the rest of them he'll agree to leave it."

"Tried that," Jamie felt her irritation returning as she opened the chapter in question and saw the vast amounts of red text throughout her work. "He's just being stubborn."

"He's not the only one," Dianne returned with two mugs and a knowing smirk. Jamie accepted the drink gratefully and blew on it before taking a hesitant sip.

"Hmm, thank you. I know where he's coming from, but the rest of the story doesn't work without this chapter as a set up. I can't simply gloss over this information in a flashback or exposition. It's too important for that."

"Alright," Dianne sat back down carefully, "then how about we find you a new editor?"

"And have to go through this process all over again?" Jamie lamented. "It's taken almost six months to get to this point."

"Then why not publish it yourself?"

Jamie paused at the suggestion. She hadn't considered that, already overwhelmed as she had been with simply writing the book. Could she do it? Well, almost certainly, but it would take a lot of research and plucking the right strings.

"Maybe," Jamie relented. "But we've got better things to focus on right now."

"Clem told me," Dianne smiled again, this time more broadly and warm. "Did Mitch say when he would be in tomorrow?"

"No," Jamie shook her head and took another pull from her drink. "But he usually doesn't make it back until the afternoon, hence why I want Clem to go ahead and go to school."

"I agree," Dianne nodded approvingly. "He's been gone longer this time than the others. It'll be nice to have him home for a while."

Jamie just hummed in agreement. When he'd first accepted the job, he'd spent anywhere from four to seven days away to examine animals and make sure they were all healthy. The AZA had kept him on after, using him as a sort of consultant to monitor the transport of the animals to their new homes. A lot of zoos around the country suffered terrible losses - both animal and human - and it was taking longer than planned to get things settled. But from the sound of Mitch's email, things seemed to finally be reaching an equilibrium and he likely wouldn't be called back out for a while.

"Dariela called today," Jamie mentioned as she stood and collected their empty mugs.

"Oh?"

"She and Abe found a house in Michigan. Jackson is going to stay with them until he can get back to Africa." Jamie walked to the kitchen and deposited the cups in the sink. She'd wash them later after dinner.

Dianne followed her, hitching her hip against the counter. "How's Isaac?"

"He's fine," Jamie smiled, remembering the chubby cheeks and delighted giggle of her godson. Isaac Kenyatta was an easy going baby, always smiling and laughing no matter who was holding him. "Dariela said she's glad Abe is taking online classes so he can help her out around the house for a while."

"Hmmm," Dianne crossed her arms and smiled. "I guess housewife is a weird career move from Army Ranger and Savior of Humanity."

"Probably about as much stress, though," Jamie laughed. "I have a hard time keeping up with Clem, and she's twelve. I can't imagine an infant."

"Oh, you'd do fine, dear. And Clem adores you."

Jamie frowned, her own misgivings and doubts about her role as stepmother once again reasserting themselves. "Really? Sometimes I'm not so sure. I know she misses her mom, and I don't ever want her to feel like I'm trying to replace her, but sometimes it feels like she still just thinks of me as the woman who's with her dad instead of a parental figure."

"She's testing her boundaries," Dianne reassured her. "All children do it, especially preteens. Lord knows I got nearly a whole head full of gray hair from Mitch's adolescent antics. He was so stubborn, like his father, and too smart for his age." Jamie soaked in every word like each one was the answer to the most inscrutable questions of the universe; it was rare that she got a glimpse into Mitch's childhood. "And she's still adjusting. A lot has changed for her and she's still learning where she fits in this new dynamic. That doesn't mean she should get away with anything, though," Dianne warned. "Set firm boundaries and be consistent, but understand that it may take a lot of time and patience for her to accept them."

Jamie just sagged back against the edge of the counter. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"You'd manage," Dianne stepped closer and reached a hand out to squeeze Jamie's shoulder. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Jamie. You're stronger than you realize. Why don't you go talk to her? I'll start dinner."

"Thank you." Jamie reached out to hug her mother-in-law gratefully before weaving her way through the apartment to Clem's room. There were only two bedrooms in the place and, not needing much, Dianne had given Clem the master bedroom when they'd moved in. But when Jamie had showed up things had been shuffled around to let her and Mitch have the larger room. Clem was moved into Dianne's room and the older woman had converted the small den off of the main sitting room into a suitable bedroom for herself. She didn't need much space, she had claimed, and did most of her work out on the kitchen table anyway. Clem hadn't been happy about losing her private bathroom, but the grumbling had stopped after Mitch had taken her out for a father-daughter bonding day during one of his early breaks.

Jamie stopped outside Clem's room and listened for a moment. Faint music floated through the door - some upbeat, pop tune she didn't recognize - as well as the soft voice of Clem as she sang along quietly. Jamie knocked, and the singing stopped immediately, though the music played on.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," Jamie answered. "Can I come in?"

There was a beat of silence, and Jamie prepared herself for the moody outburst or request to leave, but then the music stopped. "Sure."

Jamie opened the door a bit and peeked in. Clem was sitting at her desk, one large textbook open and two notebooks on either side. One was full of what had to be notes about whatever they'd learned in school today. The other she recognized as Clem's sketchbook, the one that the girl never went anywhere without. A half-finished drawing sat on the top page, but as Jamie slipped into the room Clem closed it quickly and swiveled her chair to face her guest.

"Listen," Jamie started, "I'm sorry if you felt I was being unfair earlier, but your education is important and -"

Clem interrupted her with a single word. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is it important? It's not like we have much of a future," Clem gestured vaguely with her hands. "My generation is the last one, isn't it? Isaac is probably one of the youngest people on this whole planet, and there aren't any more babies. My friends at school say humanity is going to go extinct in this century."

Jamie furrowed her brow worriedly. Was this really what kids thought about nowadays? It made her sick to her stomach to think about - she couldn't imagine what it was doing to the children. "Clem, honey," she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "You can't give up hope. Everyone who can help is working on a solution to the sterility problem."

"Dad isn't," Clem countered. "He's the one who saved everyone the first time, and he's not even involved this time."

"Oh, he is," Jamie assured her. "He's been in constant contact with the scientists in charge of the problem. Just because he's not directly working on it doesn't mean he isn't involved."

"He could be doing more," Clem slouched in her chair moodily. "Why won't they let him help?"

Jamie tried and failed to find a suitable answer for her. "It's...complicated, Clem. But you and the other kids shouldn't worry about all of that."

"Why not? One of these days, all of you will be gone and it will become our problem anyway. Why shouldn't we start worrying about it now?"

"Because you're just a kid," Jamie said firmly. "And I'm not saying you shouldn't be aware of it, but I don't want you to worry yourself sick about it. It's our job as adults to do everything we can to make things better for you, and it kills me to know that it might not be enough. Me, your dad, your grandmother, all of us...we'd love nothing more than for this whole mess to get resolved so you don't have to worry about it, so that you can go on to live a wonderful, happy, fulfilling life. But the reality is it won't, and one day you will inherit the consequences of our mistakes. But I don't want you to worry about it now, okay?"

Clem didn't look terribly convinced, but she nodded anyway. "Alright." Then, as Jamie had expected, she added, "Do I really have to go to school tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid so," Jamie tried to soothe the command with an easy tone. Clem accepted this too, this time with a bit more grace. "I'll let you get back to your homework," Jamie said with a pointed look at the sketchbook on the desk. "I'll call you when dinner's ready." She stood and squeezed the girl's shoulder quickly, encouraged when Clem returned her gesture with a small smile. Jamie paused at the door, her hand on the knob as she turned back toward her stepdaughter. "I love you, Clem."

Clem didn't look up from her notetaking, but Jamie saw the way her hand stopped mid-word for a split second before she replied. "Love you, too."

Jamie closed the the door behind her and leaned against it briefly, trying to collect herself. She hadn't meant to dive into such a heavy conversation with the twelve year old, but once the girl's concerns had been voiced there was no way to avoid addressing them. Mitch wouldn't be glad to know that his daughter was worrying about so much at a young age, but perhaps he had a better idea on how to distract her or at least alleviate some of those fears.

"Hurry home, Mitch." Jamie lifted her eyes to the ceiling, her lips murmuring the quiet request before she gathered herself and went to help Dianne in the kitchen.

Jamie checked and double checked the message on her phone, her frown deepening as she realized she was in the right place at the right time. Only there was no Mitch. He'd sent her a text that morning with the details of his flight, adding what Jamie could only assume Mitch thought was a cute emoticon. She couldn't tell if the tiny yellow face was smiling or grimacing, but she took it in stride and counted it a great accomplishment that he could even find the emoticon board. Mitch's texting skills had improved in the past year - sometimes it was the only thing she got from him all day, but he was always sure to send her at least one text letting her know he'd had a good day, that he missed her and that he loved her. Still, he likely wouldn't ever get to the skill level of Jamie or Clem, who often had entire conversations in emojis just to annoy Mitch and Dianne.

Basic flight information was well within his capabilities, though, so when several long minutes passed and Mitch still didn't materialize at baggage claim, Jamie began to grow worried. She tried to call, but his phone went straight to voicemail.

"Maybe he missed his flight," she told herself. It made sense; if he had to catch a different flight, he wouldn't be able to use his phone. But then, she argued, he would have sent his new flight information before takeoff so she wasn't waiting at the airport for hours. Deciding that debating with herself in circles would get her nowhere, she sifted through her contacts until she found one that could help.

"Doctor Hartcliff," the gruff voice answered after two rings.

"Dan, hi, it's Jamie." She'd met Dan Hartcliff once in person, just after Mitch had gotten back into contact with his old boss. He was one of those fastidious, no-nonsense types, but he cared a great deal about the earth and the animals living upon it. Better still, Mitch spoke very highly of him, which was the only stamp of approval Jamie needed. He'd proven to be a great resource for her book, helping her get a better understanding of the inner workings of zoos and the behavior of captive bred animals.

"Jamie!" He sounded surprised, though she couldn't really blame him. Most of their communication was done through emails, though she'd Skyped him once or twice when basic text on screen wasn't enough to explain the details she needed. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you had heard from Mitch? His plane landed almost half an hour ago and he's still not here. Did he change his flight plans?"

"No." She could practically hear the frown that was no doubt on his face now. "As a matter of fact, I offered to take him this morning but he insisted on taking a cab instead. Maybe he's in the bathroom? You know how airplane food disagrees with him."

Jamie smiled, though there was no humor in it. "I don't know," she sighed. "I have a bad feeling."

"I'm sure he's fine," Dan reassured her. "Listen, I have to go. I have a conference call I can't miss. But call me later and let me know when you find him."

"I will," Jamie promised. "Bye." She hung up and worriedly tapped the side of her case with one finger. A small voice in the back of her head was growing louder, telling her something was wrong. She silenced it for now and made her way to the nearest counter in search of someone who could help.

"Next!"

Jamie stepped up to the young woman - Pam, her nametag read - and gave her best disarming smile, the one that never failed to get her the information she needed when hunting down a story. "Yes, hi, my name is Jamie Campbell. My husband was supposed to arrive on Flight 445 from Los Angeles but he never came out. Can you check and see if he actually boarded the plane?"

Pam's smile stayed on her face as she responded in a clipped, professional tone. "I'm sorry, but I'm not authorized to reveal that information."

"Then can I speak to someone who is?"

Her smile fell just a fraction. "I can let you speak with my supervisor, but he's going to tell you the same thing."

Jamie was beginning to feel the first notes of panic in her chest, but she shut them down. She was probably overreacting, but this obstacle wasn't helping her calm down. "Is there anyone who I can talk to? I just need to know if he got on the plane."

Pam glanced over her shoulder quickly, typed something on her keyboard, then looked back up. "I'm really sorry, but I can't release that information. Now if you'll excuse me, there are other customers behind you."

"Yeah, well, I'm not done," Jamie slammed her hand down on the counter and squared her shoulders. "I need to speak to your manager."

"I'll call him," she said curtly, all traces of politeness gone. "You can wait over there." She gestured to a small dividing wall that served little purpose other than to delineate the spaces between airlines. Jamie thanked her with a false sweetness and stepped away, willing her heart to stop pounding. She was overreacting, she reminded herself. Any moment, Mitch would appear with that lopsided smirk and the well-used duffel bag he'd had since almost the beginning of their adventures together. Jamie had offered to buy him a new one but he'd balked, claiming his current one was lucky and he'd use it until it fell apart. Right now, she'd gladly let him if he would just materialize and put her growing fears to rest.

"Ma'am?" Jamie turned to find a man in a gray suit approaching. He looked every inch the corporate man, down to the shined shoes and carefully coiffed hair. His smile, while not fake, held a hint of falseness to it that Jamie recognized from her numerous meetings with executives. He held out his hand when he got close enough. "My name is Simon. I understand there was a problem this morning?"

"Yes," Jamie shook his hand quickly. "My husband was supposed to arrive on a flight from Los Angeles. I've already spoken with our friend in California. He says he took a cab to the airport this morning. All I wanted to know was if Mitch got on the plane."

"I am sorry," Simon placated, "but federal law prohibits us from sharing any personal information without direct consent from the person in question."

"But I'm his wife," Jamie argued.

"I understand, ma'am, but it is still against the law. I can page for your husband in the airport. Perhaps he's still in the terminals."

"I've already texted him," Jamie sighed in frustration. "If he was here, he would have called me."

"It is possible he was transferred to another flight," Simon explained. "The next flight from Los Angeles lands in three hours."

"How about this," Jamie was beginning to get irritated with the official runaround. "Why don't you just tell me what I need to do to find out if he was on _this_ plane?"

"We can release that information to a police officer or federal agent during the course of an official investigation." He did look genuinely apologetic, so Jamie took a deep breath and tried to calm her temper. "Let me call our office at LAX," Simon offered. "I can find out if any passengers from the last flight were bumped, but I wouldn't be able to give names."

"That's fine, thank you." Jamie pulled out her cell as Simon walked away, steeling herself for what she had to do next. The number was saved in her phone, though she hadn't used it in almost a year. Mitch wouldn't like it, but Jamie was running out of options. With one more bracing breath, Jamie hit the green dial button.

"Secretary Shaw's office," a young voice answered.

It took Jamie only a second to remember the name of Allison's aide. "David, it's Jamie Campbell. Is Allison available?"

"Of course. Just a moment, Ms. Campbell." There was a beat of silence, followed by a soft click as he put her on hold. The faint music played for only a few seconds before it abruptly ended and another voice came on the line.

"Jamie?"

"Allison, hi." Jamie winced at the falsely-friendly tone she'd adopted. Clearing her throat, she rushed on. "I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this, but you were the first person I thought of."

"What can I do for you?"

"Mitch was supposed to fly in today, but he never arrived. Our friend in LA says he got to the airport on time, and I can't get a hold of Mitch. The airline says they can't tell me if he actually got on the plane because of some stupid federal law. I was wondering -"

Allison cut her off. "As you can imagine, I'm busy with my own duties. I can't just call up and demand information, especially without probable cause." She sounded irritated, and Jamie really couldn't blame her. It wasn't as though she was accustomed to her ex-boyfriend/stepson's wife to call her up after a year of no contact to ask a favor.

"Allison, please. I just need to know if he got on the plane in Los Angeles or if he caught a later flight." As she was speaking, Simon returned with a small shake of his head that Jamie interpreted as a bust in his search for anyone who had been bumped to a later flight. Which meant that either Mitch hadn't ever gotten on the plane in Los Angeles, or he had and something had happened to him before he could make it to her in baggage claim.

Allison's sigh floated over the line. "Give me his flight information. I'll see what I can find out."

Jamie sagged in relief. "It was flight 445 from Los Angeles to Baton Rouge. Thank you, Allison."

"I'll call you back." Allison hung up without saying goodbye, but Jamie didn't take it personally. When this was all over, she would owe the other woman big time. Mitch wouldn't like it, but Jamie couldn't care about that right now.

"No one from that flight was moved to another one," Simon told her.

"I have a...friend," Jamie settled on the word without much thought, "in the government. She's looking into it now. Thank you for your help."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help." He shook her hand once more and left her to her own devices. Jamie paced the small area for several long minutes, her nimble fingers tapping out three more texts to Mitch's phone, before Allison returned her call.

"He never boarded," Allison told her solemnly. "Records show that he checked in on his phone the night before the flight, but he never passed through security or got on the plane."

"So where is he?" Jamie asked frantically. "It's not like him to not call if his plans change."

"I don't know. You said your friend dropped him at the airport?"

"No," Jamie shook her head. "He was going to, but Mitch took a cab instead. You think something happened to him in Los Angeles?"

"That seems the most likely answer," Allison said. "If you haven't been contacted, then it's doubtful he's in a hospital anywhere. Unless he's unconscious without identification." Allison seemed to be positing the worst case scenarios almost absently, like she forgot she was actually talking to someone else. "Call your friend in LA," she said with more authority, like they were once again in roles they hadn't played in over a year. "Tell him to check local hospitals for John Does that fit Mitch's description. We can eliminate that, at least. I'll call my contact in California, see if I can get someone to start a missing person's report."

 _Missing Person_

The phrase hit Jamie like a sledgehammer, and she had to lock her knees to keep them from buckling. This could not be happening, not now. Not when they were finally getting their happy ending. She didn't need a perfect life, but she did need a life with him in it. If he was gone… It was a terrifying thought, fleeting though it was. She shook it off and focused on the task Allison had set to her.

"Okay. I'm going to fly out to LA," Jamie told her. "I can do more in person."

"I'll give my contact your number so you can connect after you land." Allison sounded different now, less annoyed and more concerned. Jamie knew she still had feelings for Mitch and, no matter how twisted and weird it was for her to think about, Jamie couldn't help but be grateful for those feelings now. It was probably the only reason Allison was being as helpful as she was despite knowing she had no chance with him.

"Thank you, Allison." She didn't wait for the brush off she was sure was coming. The moment Jamie disconnected, she went in search of Simon for one last favor.

A week passed with no sign of Mitch, and Jamie was nearing the end of her rope. The cab company that had taken him the airport showed the fare in their system, but the security cameras at LAX didn't record his arrival. The driver of the cab was also missing, as was the cab itself. The local police were at a loss on how to continue, but Jamie was persistent.

Back in Baton Rouge, Dianne was doing her best to keep Clem distracted, but the twelve year old knew something was going on. Each time Jamie talked to her she asked to speak to her dad. Jamie hated lying to her, settling on a half-truth instead.

"He's not here right now, sweetie."

"He never is," Clem snapped back. "Where is he? What's he doing that's more important?" Hearing the scorn in the girl's voice broke the last of Jamie's resolve. She couldn't keep up the charade any longer and a sob escaped her throat. Clem's tone changed immediately. "Jamie? What's wrong?" Distantly, Jamie heard Clem call for her grandmother.

There was a burst of static on the line as the phone was passed from one to the other, then Dianne's voice filled her ear. "Jamie? Honey? Breathe, sweetie. It'll be okay."

Jamie's chest hitched as a week's worth of worry and frustration came pouring out. Dianne kept trying to get her to calm down, but Jamie could barely hear her. She clutched the phone to her ear like a lifeline as she fought to take a breath, then another.

"Jamie? I'm going to call Dariela. Maybe Jackson can come out to help you. Jamie?"

"I'm here," she managed finally, hating how weak her voice sounded.

"You just keep at it, okay? Everything will be alright. We love you, honey."

Jamie repeated the sentiment in a mumbled reply and hung up. The phone slipped from her hand and tumbled onto the too-hard hotel bed. Around her, reports and photos littered the comforter and prevented anyone from actually sleeping in the bed. Jamie had managed a few hours each night, her small frame curled around the evidence protectively, but most of her time was spent going over traffic cams, security videos and the timeline. The best she could figure, Mitch had left his hotel around eight the morning of his flight. Jamie had managed to sweet talk the hotel's manager into giving her a copy of that section of the recording, and she'd played it over and over about a hundred times in the last week.

Feeling just a little maudlin, she keyed it up again on her laptop. It was a short ten second clip, grainy and washed out like most cheaper security cameras. She watched as Mitch exited the hotel with his trusty duffel on his shoulder. He opened the back door, put his bag in first, then slid into the seat. Just before he disappeared he glanced up, almost directly at the camera. Jamie paused the video there, her eyes tracing the blurred contours of his face. Was this the last image she'd have of him?

Her phone rang again, and Jamie saw Jackson's face on the screen out of the corner of her eye. She tore her gaze from her computer to answer.

"Hello?"

"Jamie? Are you alright? Dianne told me Mitch is missing." Jamie could hear in his voice that he was upset no one had told him. Honestly, Jamie had forgotten all about her friends in Michigan in the chaos of the last week, but now that he was on the phone she desperately wanted to see them.

"He never made his flight home," Jamie explained. "And the last time anyone saw him was him getting into the cab at the hotel that morning."

"What do the police say?"

"Not much," Jamie sneered. "LA is still under martial law," she stood and paced the small space between the bed and bathroom. "They've got a lot to deal with, and I don't think one missing person is high on their priority list right now."

"So you're going at it alone?"

"Not the first time," Jamie returned.

"Yeah, well, not anymore. I've already got a flight out tonight. Abe wants to come, too, but he's so busy with the new baby and his schooling. I told him we'd call if we need him."

Relief flooded Jamie as Jackson's words sunk in. He was coming. She wouldn't have to to this by herself any more. "What time do you land?"

"Eleven, I think. What hotel are you at?"

"I'll meet you," she said quickly. "Just text me your flight info."

"Alright." He took a breath, and Jamie knew what was coming. "Why didn't you call us?"

"I don't know," she told him honestly. "I guess I was so sure I could find him, that he'd just appear one day. I've been so overwhelmed with the search that I forgot. I'm sorry."

"No, I didn't mean to sound so harsh," Jackson apologized. "It's just...hard to imagine. I thought all of this craziness was over."

The sound that escaped her throat was half a sob and half laughter. "Me, too."

"Just hang in there," Jackson reassured her, his voice pitched low and even. "I'll be there soon."

Jamie thought of nothing else the rest of the night, and the moment Jackson's form appeared in the crowd of people exiting the terminals, Jamie ran forward and threw her arms around his neck. Tears stained his shirt as he held her, and his arms were warm and comforting as he shushed her.

"It'll be okay," he whispered. "We'll find him." He repeated the promise over and over and, for a while anyway, Jamie believed him.

A week became two, then four, and finally Jamie couldn't stay away from her family any longer. Jackson went with her back to Louisiana, and as May ended and June began Dianne spoke to their landlord about moving to a larger apartment to accommodate all of them. It took a bit of cajoling, but they finally moved to a three bedroom, two bathroom unit at the back of the complex. Jackson slept on the fold-out so the girls could each have their own room. When Abe and Dariela arrived with little Isaac, Jamie happily gave them her room and moved onto an air mattress in Dianne's room.

With all of her friends under one roof, Jamie felt better. There was still an ache in her chest each time she passed Mitch's picture or caught the glint of her ring when she moved her hand. She spent every waking moment on the search, calling in every favor she was owed, pulling every string she could to get any new information. But there was none to be had - Mitch had simply vanished into thin air.

She knew what the police thought; she'd overheard their conversations during one of her frequent trips to the precinct. They all thought he'd left voluntarily, that he'd seen the opportunity to escape all of the pressure and expectations and taken it. Jamie just ignored them. They didn't know Mitch - didn't know how hard they'd fought to be together, how much they'd endured to get their happy ever after. He wouldn't just leave, especially now that he finally had his daughter.

Clem was holding herself together well, considering. She'd taken the news hard, but rallied after a few weeks to help Dianne with the upkeep of the household while Jamie and Jackson spent day after day hunting down leads that often turned out to be dead ends. But without Mitch there and with Jamie being gone for most of the time, her relationship with her stepmother deteriorated. When Jamie was home the girl was civil but cold, choosing to spend her time in her room or with her grandmother. Dianne tried to smooth things over, claiming the strain on Clem's teenage hormones and Jamie's tendency to take so much blame onto her own shoulders. But Jamie knew better. She was losing Clem, and there was only one thing she could do to make things better.

A piece of Jamie died the day she finally laid down the search for good. It had been over a year with no leads or hints, and it was finally time to focus on her family. Clem had been surprisingly accepting of the decision. Jamie wondered how long ago the girl had given up, then decided she didn't want to know. Clem had been through too much in her short life; it was probably best she'd accepted it and moved on. Jamie's constant promises that Mitch could be found, that he would be home soon, had probably only caused the girl more pain.

On the occasion of her fourteenth birthday, Clem made the decision to invite her paternal grandfather. Dianne wasn't happy with it, but Jamie was still feeling guilty about neglecting her stepdaughter, so out the invitation went. She didn't expect a reply, let alone a confirmed RSVP, but the morning of the party there was a knock on the door. Dianne had grumbled something and disappeared into the kitchen as Jamie went for the door.

"Hello Max," she greeted as she opened it a bit wider than necessary for his entrance.

"Good to see you again," Max stepped through with a grin. "Sad to hear I wasn't invited to the wedding."

"It was kind of a last minute thing," Jamie said apologetically as she returned the hug he offered. "Thanks for coming. Clem really wanted to meet you."

Max clapped his hands together eagerly. "So where is my granddaughter?" For a fleeting moment, the expression his face was so similar to Mitch that Jamie felt her heart skip a beat.

"In her room. Why don't you have a seat and I'll go get her." She gestured to the small living room where Jackson was catching up with Abe and Dariela. Jamie left Max with them and walked down the short hallway to Clem's room.

"Clem, honey?" She knocked softly with two knuckles. "Your grandfather is here."

The door opened a crack and Clem's piercing eyes stared back. "What's he like?"

"Why don't you come see for yourself?" Jamie took a small step back, pleased when Clem slipped out into the hall next to her. She could hear chatter in the room beyond - Max was no doubt regaling his captive audience with another of his stories - but everyone fell silent when Jamie led Clem into the room.

Max stood from his place on the couch. "You must be Clementine."

Jamie nudged the girl gently to get her to respond. "Hi."

Max either didn't sense her unease or just decided to ignore it. "Well come on over here," he flapped his hands wildly, "let me look at you." He gripped her shoulders in his hands and studied her with a critical eye. Jamie kept close, ready to step in if she felt Clem was too uncomfortable with the scrutiny. She knew firsthand how...spirited Max could be. "You look a bit like your father," Max said finally. "Though I imagine you take after your mom quite a bit."

"Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes," Dianne announced from the doorway. Max turned abruptly with a charming smile, but Dianne just glowered back. "Max."

"Dianne!" He took three steps toward her, then checked himself at her hard stare. "It's wonderful to see you again, my dear."

"Wish I could say the same," Dianne returned dryly. "Jamie, honey, can you give me a hand with the dishes?"

"Of course." Jamie squeezed Clem's arm encouragingly and retreated to the kitchen with Dianne. "How are you holding up?" she asked the older woman. It couldn't be easy trying to be civil with someone who had so deeply betrayed her. Jamie thought about her feelings toward Logan after his treachery had been revealed and knew that this was so much worse. Dianne and Max had been married, they had a son together, and Max had thrown it all away. Jamie knew Dianne still carried a lot of hurt where Max was concerned, and his presence was probably as painful as Mitch's absence.

"I can suffer it, for Clem's sake," she answered flatly. She offered Jamie a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's just one day."

One day turned into two, in part thanks to Clem's offhand comment about wanting to spend more time with her grandfather. That was all it took for Max to invite himself to stay overnight rather than in the hotel room Jamie had booked for him. Abe and his family had been shuffled there instead and Max camped in the living room with Jackson.

The next day, he asked if he could take Clem out for a day of bonding, and since Jamie could find no reason to say no she instead sent them out with instructions to be home before dinner. At Jackson's request, she spent the day on herself. Dianne took her out for a girls' day at the spa, and Jamie realized it had been a long time since she'd had a day like that. It had been a long time for Dianne, too, she thought as she watched some of the stress of the last few days lift from her mother-in-law's shoulders.

They were hit with two surprises when they got home. Jackson had spent his day cleaning the apartment top to bottom, then preparing a meal for everyone. Dianne had hugged him so tightly, Jamie had laughed at the startled expression on his face. The second came from Max in the middle of dinner.

"I want to take Clem back to live with me in Finland."

Silence fell over the table like an oppressive blanket. Utensils froze mid-air and conversations stopped abruptly as they all turned to Max with matching incredulous expressions.

"Are you insane?" Dianne finally broke the tension.

"Absolutely not!" Jamie cried.

The two women continued to berate the obviously-deranged man, but Clem's quiet voice broke through and silenced both of them. "I want to go."

Jamie was the first to answer. "Clem, honey, you can't just move to Finland."

"Why not?" she shrugged. "We talked a lot today, and I think this is what's best for me."

"You're only fourteen, and you've been through a lot these last few years. I'm not sure you know what's best for you right now."

"And you do?" Clem challenged. "You're not my mother, you can't tell me what to do."

"Clementine Marie Lewis!" Dianne stood up to her full height and tossed her napkin onto her plate. "I never met your mother, but I can't imagine she raised you to be so disrespectful to your family. Whether you see it or not, Jamie has done nothing but sacrifice for you and take care of you. Now, either you apologize and we can discuss this civilly or you can get up from this table and go to your room!"

The girl stared back defiantly for a moment, then pushed her chair back and stood. "Fine. But it doesn't matter. Grandpa Max already filed the paperwork." She stomped away in a fit, leaving the rest of them staring at Max angrily.

"Max," Jamie kept her tone even despite the turmoil within. She knew if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to control her actions and might do something she'd regret later. "What did Clem mean?"

Max, for his own part, seemed unfazed by the chaos he'd caused by his simple statement. "Clem and I did some talking today. She's not happy here," he told them plainly. "She lost her family in Maine, and now Mitch. I think she needs some distance from everything, and when I mentioned she could visit me in Finland she asked if she could just move there. So I called my lawyer and talked it over, and he sent the paperwork to the county clerk and we filed a motion for a custody hearing."

"A custody…?" Jamie felt a little faint and sank back in her seat. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Dianne, on the other hand, had had enough. "Get out."

Max looked surprised at her command. "What?"

"You heard me," Dianne reached out and grabbed his arm, bodily lifting him from the chair with a strength that belied her smaller frame. "I don't want you near me or my family... _ever_. I'll be damned if I sit back and watch you tear it apart again. Get out!" She shoved him toward the door, and when he tried to protest it was Jackson who pushed him the rest of the way out. The door shut behind them but Jamie hovered next to it to listen as Jackson spoke to Max.

"You know," he commented with a deceptively calm tone, "when Mitch used to go on and on about how awful you were, I never really believed you could be that bad. You hurt him, and his mom, and he never forgave you for that. What do you think he'd say right now if he knew you were trying to take his daughter away from the only family she has left?"

"But they're not," Max argued. "I'm her family, too."

"Who's been in her life for two whole days! Jamie and Dianne have cared for her the last two years. Where were you?" He laughed humorlessly. "Oh, that's right. Finland. Doing what you do best. Running away from your problems. So who do you think the judge is going to rule in favor of, hmm? A grandfather who never once - in fourteen years - attempted to contact his granddaughter, or the two women who have sacrificed everything to make sure she has a healthy and happy life?"

"But she's not happy here!"

"Of course she isn't," Jackson barked. "She just lost her father. You wouldn't understand what that does to a kid, because you weren't around after you left your family. She's angry and sad and confused, but that doesn't mean she needs to move halfway across the world. What does that teach her? That she can just run away everytime something gets tough? Is that the kind of life you want for her? Your life?"

Jamie held her breath waiting for Max's reply. When it came, his tone was much less spirited than before. "No, I guess not. I just...don't like seeing her so sad."

"Neither do I," Jackson said. "But she's resilient. She'll pull through."

There was a beat of silence, then, "Can you tell them I'm sorry? And I'll call my lawyer tomorrow and cancel everything. I just wanted to help. Can you tell them that, too?"

"I'll tell them," Jackson promised. "Are you going to be alright tonight? Do you need me to take you to a hotel?"

"No," Max said. "I'll find my way. Thanks."

Jamie jumped back as Jackson came in, and the moment the door was closed she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she breathed into his shoulder.

"Of course," he rubbed her back slowly. "You heard?"

"All of it," she admitted. "You think he was telling the truth?"

"Yeah," Jackson released her and walked with her back to the kitchen. When he told Dianne what had happened she hugged him, too.

"I'm gonna go talk to Clem," Jamie announced. There was no answer when she knocked, and when she called Clem's name she only received a muffled command to go away.

Jamie remembered the spiteful words the girl had spat across the dinner table and tried not to let it get to her. They had been struggling this past year, and Jamie bore a large chunk of the blame where that was concerned. She closed her eyes and laid her forehead against the door as tears stung her eyes. She sent a silent apology to Mitch out into the universe, wherever he was.

"Clem," she spoke softly, both to keep her voice from carrying down the hall and into the ears of the others and to hide the fact that she was on the verge of breaking down. "Listen, I know you're upset, and I understand. And that's okay. If you need to be mad at me right now, then be mad at me. But I just want you to know that I love you, and I am always here if you need to talk. I told you once that I would never try to replace your mother, and that's still true." She swallowed around the sudden tightness in her throat and plowed on, unsure if Clem was even still listening through the door. "But I love you like you're my own and I just want to keep you safe." Having said her piece, Jamie stayed there for several long moments hoping that Clem would answer.

When she didn't, Jamie just sighed and pushed away. Maybe they could talk tomorrow after everyone had slept and gotten some distance from the emotions of the evening. She shuffled back down the hall and into the living room where Jackson and Dianne had already prepared a mug of tea for her. She accepted it gratefully and sank down into the armchair in defeat.

"Don't take it personally," Dianne reassured her. "Mitch went through a phase like this, too. It's a teenager thing. She'll come around."

Jackson blew a breath through his nose in a muted laugh, and the two women looked at him curiously. At their stares, he explained. "It's just, you made the comparison to Mitch, but her behavior reminds me a lot of Jamie."

"How?" Jamie's tone made it clear he should choose his next words carefully; she was in no mood to spar with him tonight.

"She spent - what? - two days with the man and decided to go live with him? Then when hit with resistance she digs her heels in. I'm not sure if impulsiveness and resilience are hereditary or learned, but she definitely reminds me of you. Or, at least, how you used to be when I first met you." He seemed almost wary of his own words, like he was afraid of her response.

Jamie smiled softly to let him know she didn't take offense. "If you think I was brash and impulsive when you met me, you should have known me back in college."

As Dianne retired to her bedroom, the evening morphed comfortably into one of nostalgia. Jamie shared stories about her pre-Beast Rebellion years and Jackson answered with tales of life in Botswana. She was surprised to hear he'd once had a family of his own, many years ago. As he spoke of their deaths, about how helpless he'd been as he'd watched them die in a horrible accident, surprise turned to horror.

"Oh, Jackson, I'm so sorry. I had no idea…" The universe seemed hellbent on throwing them to the wolves at every opportunity, but everytime they seemed to come out stronger.

He just shrugged one shoulder. "It was a long time ago," he told her. "I've dealt with it and moved on."

But knowing his past made Chloe's death even more tragic than it already was. Neither of them could seem to catch a break, but thankfully they didn't have to face anything alone anymore. She set her now-empty mug down and moved from the chair to the sofa cushion next to him. He seemed to sense her intent and let her curl against him comfortably as he lounged back.

"You think things will ever be good again?" she asked him.

"Of course they will," he squeezed her shoulder and let his head fall back against the cushions. "We just gotta take things one day at a time."

Over the next few weeks, Jamie found herself repeating Jackson's words to herself at least once a day. Interactions with Clem were still tense, but the teen had apologized for her behavior and never mentioned it again. She gave no indication that she'd heard Jamie's impassioned speech through her door, but both of them made an effort to get things back to normal. When Max called to apologize again, Jamie let him talk to Clem for over an hour and they made tentative plans for her to visit next summer. When they'd hung up, Clem had hugged Jamie tightly and whispered her thanks. Jamie cried.

Eventually things settled down. Jamie went back to her book, and Clem and Dianne went back to school. They'd expected Jackson to go back to Michigan with the Kenyattas, or even back to Africa like he'd always mentioned, but he surprised them by finding a local job at a wildlife center and sticking around. She'd never tell him, but Jamie was glad he'd decided to stay. It was nice to have someone around to talk to who knew what she'd been through and who wasn't afraid to talk to her about the hard things.

Nothing could ever soothe the ache in her heart left by Mitch's disappearance, but with Jackson around things didn't seem so bad. She'd never give up hope that Mitch was alive - not until she was given absolute proof otherwise. All of the information they'd gathered on their search remained untouched on her laptop, and every now and then they'd sit together late at night and go over everything again. Even more rarely, they'd find something they'd missed and attack it from a new angle. But no matter how many times they did it, the end result was the same. Mitch had simply disappeared.

Jamie's book, A Rumor of Crows, was released in the Spring of 2020 and it was clear from the first week of sales that it was going to be big. She soared to the top of the New York Times' Bestseller List and, almost overnight, became a household name. Everyone wanted to know the story of how six people had saved the world. She'd given all of her friend's pseudonyms, but it didn't really matter. Thanks to their little press junket they were all virtually famous anyway. Still, it had been easier to write using false names, especially when she'd had to write particularly difficult scenes.

Whispers began to reach them of a small group calling themselves the Shepherd Hunters. At first, Jamie didn't think anything of it. She'd known some of the Shepherds had escaped the hybrid massacre - Mansdale and his team had been the ones to save Mitch and bring him back to her. Still, she couldn't feel too sorry for them. It had been their plan that had sterilized the human race, and whatever fate befell them was entirely their own doing.

But then another whisper reached her, and this one she couldn't ignore. Jackson's name had popped up on a site listing known targets of the Shepherd Hunters, simply for the crime of being Robert Oz's son.

"It's ridiculous," she told him late one night, long after Clem and Dianne had gone to bed. "How can they possibly think you had anything to do with your father's plan?" She was pacing back and forth in front of the couch, her hands fidgeting more and more with each pass.

"They don't really seem very interested in rationalizing things, Jamie." He was seated in the center of the sofa, his eyes tracking her. "They're out for blood."

That made her stop. "Your blood." She could hear the tremor in her own voice as the fear of losing another of her friends came bubbling up.

Jackson stood up and came around the low coffee table to wrap her in a hug. "Hey, it's gonna be alright. Okay?"

"How?" She shoved away from him, her fear quickly morphing to anger. Anger, as she'd once told Clem, was an easier emotion to deal with. "How is you being on some insane most wanted list going to be okay? What if they come after you? What if they come here?"

He paused then, his face pinched in thought. "You're right. I can't stay here."

"Jackson, no! That's not what I -"

"If I stay here, I'm endangering all of you."

Jamie reached out for him, desperate to hold on as though she could physically keep him here with her. "You can't just leave."

He pulled back out of reach and shook his head sadly. "Jamie, these people are killing Shepherds and anyone else they think is a threat. I can't stay here and risk them hurting you or the others."

"You're not a threat!" She could see she wasn't getting through; Jackson was the only person she'd ever met who could match her hardheadedness. They were a lot alike in many ways - whenever he set his mind on something he saw it through to the end, no matter what.

"Listen," he ran a hand down his face as he stifled a yawn. "It's late. We're both tired. Why don't we get some rest and talk about this tomorrow?"

"Okay, just promise me you make any rash decisions before then?" This time when she reached for his hand he didn't pull away. He squeezed her fingers gently.

"Alright."

She should have known - should have heard it in his voice, seen it in his eyes. But as she shuffled into the kitchen the next morning, the only indication she had that something was wrong was the silence and a folded paper sitting under her favorite mug on the table. Her fingers were trembling as she slipped it free and unfolded it, recognizing Jackson's hasty scrawl immediately.

 _Jamie,_

 _There's nothing to say except I'm sorry. Hurting you is the last thing I want to do, but I can't stay knowing that it might put you or someone else in danger. I know you're mad at me right now. I know that by leaving like this I have forever hurt our friendship, but I can live with that so long as I know you're alive and safe. I can't thank you enough for your company, your companionship and your love._ _Maybe if things had worked out differently_

 _Please don't try and find me. I'm doing this to keep all of you safe. I will contact Abe and tell him what's happened. I'm counting on you to keep him from coming after me. He's got his family and his career to think about, and you need to focus on Clem. She's a great kid, and she needs you more than either of you realize. I only wish I could be there to watch her grow up to be the wonderful young woman I know she'll become, especially with you there to look out for her._

 _I hope one day you can forgive me._

 _With love,_

 _Jackson_

Jamie could barely read the last few lines through the tears in her eyes. Her fingers clenched as the emotions swelled in her, but she checked the movement as the paper in her hand began to crumple. She laid his letter flat, smoothing out the wrinkles she'd made, and read it again. The shock of his words faded after the second reading, quickly replaced by a burning anger. But rather than boil up and spill over like her temper was prone to, this anger sank into her gut and settled, like sediment on a seabed. He'd abandoned them - abandoned _her_ \- after he'd promised to stay.

Fresh tears stung her eyes and a few fell to the paper before she could stop them. Her gaze fell to the center of the page where he'd scratched out one line of text. She tried to pretend she didn't know what he meant, but even as she forced the words into her mind she knew they were wrong. How many times in the past six months had she caught herself staring at him too long? How many times had she woken in a cold sweat with his name at the tip of her tongue? Maybe if they'd had more time, if he'd stuck around, they might have found solace in each other. No one could ever replace Mitch - she would never be rid of the searing ache in her heart each time she thought of him. But maybe - just maybe - she could have found some measure of peace with Jackson.

She'd never know now. He was gone. Soon the other two occupants of the apartment would wake, and Jamie would have to explain it all to them. Dianne would understand - she wouldn't like it, she would be hurt, but she'd understand. Clem would take it harder. Jackson had been her only male role model the last year or so. He'd become not a father figure, but something like an older brother or an uncle to the girl. He was fiercely protective of her and she made him laugh, and she would be devastated at his loss.

Jamie felt another wave of anger hit her. How could Jackson do this to them? How could he abandon the only family he had left? Before she could think about it, she grabbed her phone and called him. It rang through to voicemail, so she tried again. Same result. She sent a text so long that it broke into four pieces on sending, but there was no response. Ten minutes passed, and when she tried to call again the number had been disconnected. He was gone.

She found him almost by accident one day, scouring the internet for information on the Shepherd Hunters. She'd stumbled on a forum for the hunters, and though their language was coded, it wasn't difficult to decipher the meaning. They'd found Jackson hiding in Omaha under an alias ( _really Jackson? Abraham Morgan?_ ) and were offering a substantial reward to anyone who could bring him to justice. From their language, Jamie got the feeling Jackson wouldn't live to stand trial for his imagined crimes.

So she got to work. She called every contact she still had, she taught herself about the ins and outs of coding and exploiting weaknesses. It took almost a year, but she finally manage to throw the Hunters off Jackson's scent and let him vanish beyond the partially-built barrier.

Because the world wasn't awful enough, hybrids from Pangaea had somehow made it to the west coast and were killing indiscriminately. Jamie had no idea how they'd gotten there, though the theories being tossed around on the net ranged from ridiculously implausible to terrifyingly realistic. The governments of North America had agreed to pool resources to construct a nearly 1200 mile long barrier running from Juneau, Alaska to Salina Cruz, Mexico. It was a tremendous task, one that would reportedly only take months to complete. Hundreds of teams of workers would construct their portion, linking up with other teams once finished to hasten the construction of the entire wall. The National Guard as well as government formed militias would be tasked with keeping the hybrids on the coast while the wall was going up, and would remain to shuttle all civilians that remained behind after the general call for evacuation was sounded.

The Barrier, now capitalized on all media outlets and government reports, was finished in September of 2022. The hybrids outbreaks that had started in San Diego had radiated outward, reaching as far north as Oregon's southern border and as far west as Phoenix. The National Guard had been folded into Homeland Security, and the Barrier was officially under the jurisdiction of the IADG. For the most part, life was fairly normal east of the Rocky Mountains, but Jamie watched the news every day to keep up to date on the horrors taking place on the west coast. The death toll was still climbing as the military and civilian squads alike scrambled to evacuate anyone still remaining. Current estimates on total evacuation was still calculated in years, rather than months, due mostly to the stubborn nature of the more rural residents and the sheer area they had to cover.

The day after Clem graduated high school, Jamie received an envelope in the mail. It had no return address but there was no mistaking his handwriting. She opened it with shaky fingers and slipped the congratulations card addressed to Clem from within. There was another small piece of paper folded inside the card, this one bearing her name. Jamie opened it and smiled.

 _Still alive. Still sorry. Stay safe._

 _Dylan Green_

At least his new alias was more solid, and less traceable. Jamie had made sure of that herself. She'd gotten good at manipulating the rapidly growing technology boon that had sprung up as a result of the scramble to solve human sterility. Scientists and technologists from around the world were collaborating on an unprecedented scale to combat the issue, but they were no closer than they were six years ago. Abe had gotten his doctorate the year before on a fast track program designed to add more minds to the global think tank. She knew he was working as a reproductive endocrinologist in Michigan, though through their emails they shared more personal information than professional. She knew he'd want to know the latest news about Jackson, so she logged on to her secure server and sent a quick message.

 _The munchkin and I are doing well. We can't come for a visit now, but hopefully soon. Love, Jamie._

It was short, but it relayed the necessary information. Jackson was okay, but still underground and unable to come home. She'd added "hopefully soon" to the end to let Abe know her own work was going well.

Under an alias of her own, Jamie had ingratiated herself with the Shepherd Hunters some time ago. At first, it had been a good way to keep tabs on Jackson's whereabouts and throw off the scent however she could. But the more involved she became, the more she began to sympathize with them. They were angry at the injustice the Shepherds had wrought on the world, and if the governments of the world weren't going to do anything, then they would. The Hunters were officially listed as a terrorist organization, but Jamie knew there wasn't a federal agency in the country that would actively pursue them so long as they continued to bring Shepherds to justice.

There were two that continuously eluded every effort at capture. The Falcon had been number one on the hit list for almost two years; every time they thought they had him, it turned out to be a decoy. There were so many theories on who the Falcon could be, each one too high in power to be reached. Number Two - known only as "Mr. Duncan" - was a virtual ghost. Unlike the Falcon, no one had an inkling who it could be, and every member of Mansdale's team had been accounted for (except the man himself). Jamie wondered if Mansdale was Mr. Duncan, and had cast her net for any feelers. She wanted Mansdale herself.

Jamie had come to the conclusion that there were only two entities who could be responsible for Mitch's disappearance. One was Reiden Global, motivated by revenge for their usurpation of the cure. They'd managed to come out of the court of public opinion relatively unscathed, wounded but not defeated. They'd rallied in the last few years, using their extensive resources to aid the search for a solution to sterilization. They'd even managed to get back in the government's good graces, and though they were not nearly the powerhouse they had been in their prime, they still held considerable sway.

But Reiden wasn't her most likely suspect. When Mitch had disappeared, Reiden was still buried under a mountain of lawsuits and injunctions, swamped with so many fines and fees that Jamie was fairly certain revenge was the last thing they were thinking about. So that left the Shepherds.

Mitch and his friends had been the ones to unleash the hybrids on the island in the first place, so rushed in their getaway that they hadn't really considered the consequences of opening Section K to the rest of the facility. It was possible they wanted vengeance for their fallen comrades, but that wasn't their likeliest reason for kidnapping Mitch. Before the massacre at Pangaea, the Shepherds had endured for hundreds of years, comprised of scientists and technicians from all fields and all walks of life. Now, with most of their lead scientists dead, they would need to rebuild. People like the Shepherds - who hadn't even blinked or hesitated to commit genocide in the name of protecting the planet - wouldn't be above kidnapping the people they needed to further their agenda.

Jamie had formulated her theory one lonely evening after Jackson had left, and had spent almost every waking hour since scouring the net for any information that would support her hypothesis. There were reports from across the globe - scattered among the chatter about hybrids and barriers and martial law - of people going missing. A geneticist from Sweden, an electrical engineer from Hong Kong, a physicist from Paraguay. Taken individually, the reports were little more than footnotes in their respective cities' police ledgers. But Jamie knew each case by heart, knew their names and faces and every other minute detail. She had alerts set to notify her on changes in the cases, algorithms set up to search for any mention of their names in the news or elsewhere. Because if one of them was ever found, they might be able to lead her to Mitch.

Which brought her back to Mansdale. He was the only Shepherd from the island left to be found. The Falcon was untouchable, climbing to the highest ranks in an effort to protect himself from the Hunters' long reach. But if Mansdale was Duncan, then finding Mansdale would ultimately lead them to the Falcon. And maybe - just maybe - if the Hunters took out their top two targets they would forget about Jackson.

On the ninth anniversary of Mitch's disappearance, Jamie packed a bag and drove seventy five miles east to her hometown. Her aunt and uncle welcomed her with open arms, took her things and pushed a bouquet of lilies into her hand with a kiss and a promise to have dinner ready when she returned.

It had been a year since she'd set foot in the cemetery where her mother was buried. As she crouched down in front of the stone plaque she wiped away the leaves and dirt that had gathered, then laid the bouquet down atop Nancy's name.

"Hey, Mom." It was getting warmer by the day, and the humidity of a southern spring didn't help. As Jamie sat there and spoke about everything that had happened over the past year, she could feel the sweat soaking through her shirt. But she didn't budge until she was through, enduring the discomfort for the small measure of peace she gained from the telling.

"Mitch is still missing," she said to the wind. She refused to believe he was dead - he was no good to anyone that way, and she was sure she'd have heard about it by now if he was. Whoever had him was keeping him away from his family on purpose. "I thought I was close last October. The Hunters caught Mansdale's right hand man, but they dispatched him before anyone could question him. Sometimes I don't know if it's such a great idea for me to be involved with them. But they're the only way I know to find Mansdale, and when I do he's going to pay." She still had no real evidence that Mansdale was behind Mitch's disappearance, but until a better theory presented itself it was all she had.

"Clem's doing great at college," Jamie moved on to brighter subjects. "She said she might even be able to graduate a full semester early. Of course, that won't be till next Christmas. Hopefully Mitch will be home by then." She reached up and grasped the ring dangling from a silver chain around her neck. Having grown tired of answering questions about her husband to nosy strangers, she'd stopped wearing it on her hand some time ago. But she couldn't bring herself to simply tuck it away in a jewelry box, so she'd slipped it on a chain and wore it under her shirt every day. It's steady weight against her breastbone was a constant reminder that she should never give up hope.

The sun was beginning to set behind the copse of trees that surrounded the cemetery, so Jamie stood and stretched her cramped legs. "I'll see you next time, Mom. I love you." She lingered for a moment more before turning to walk the short distance to her car. She'd spend a few days with her family, bask in the warmth and safety that came with sleeping in her childhood home, and then return to her life in Baton Rouge.

The summer came and went as Jamie toiled away on her second novel. This one was entirely fiction, but it helped her stay sane whenever she grew too focused on the search for Mansdale. Just before Christmas she received an encrypted email from someone she didn't recognize. It contained only coordinates (that she figured out led to an abandoned airport hangar in Houston) and four words that froze the blood in her veins.

 _Sorry about your toe._

She hadn't heard a peep from Logan for over nine years. He'd sent her an email after the wedding offering his congratulations, though it felt hollow. She'd replied with a quick thank you and a hope that he was doing well. He never responded. If he was contacting her now, after so many years of silence, then it was probably important. Or, she mused, important to him. Her curiosity got the best of her and she told him she'd meet him in three days.

She had the cab drop her a few blocks away, on the south side of the old regional airport. Finding a gap in the fence wasn't too hard - it was clear no one had been here for many years. She let her phone guide her to the right hangar, a large looming structure in the dark. There were no cars outside and all of the windows were blacked out. Adrenaline flooded her system as she ran through all of the possibilities in her head, each more ludicrous than the last. She had almost convinced herself that Mansdale had set this all up in order to lure her out into the open when the door on the side of the building opened.

The figure silhouetted in the doorway was familiar, and when he raised his arm to beckon her over she nodded. Logan stepped back to let her in, and Jamie was pleasantly surprised by the warmth that hit her the moment she crossed the threshold. Logan hovered nearby as she stamped her feet and shed her coat, obviously stalling as she searched for something to say.

He hadn't changed much, other than the mustache that was growing in above his upper lip. His hair was still shorn almost to the scalp, and she thought his face was a bit more filled out than before. The years had obviously been good to him, and she wondered idly what he'd been doing since he'd disappeared after Maine.

"Hi, Jamie." He was apparently done watching her stall.

"Hi." She glanced around the small office curiously. Unlike the rest of the airport, this hangar seemed to be well kept and operational. A bank of large screens hung on one wall as surprisingly clear camera images blinked across them. It was how he'd known she was outside, she guessed. A small desk sat in the opposite corner, and the laptop on its surface was covered in files and papers. No personal touches could be found, not even a generic photo or painting on the wall. There was another door on the wall to her right, and judging from its placement it probably opened into the large hangar beyond.

"What is this place?" she asked finally.

"Headquarters," Logan answered. "I'm a part of a special operations team. This is one of our lesser used bases."

"Used for what?"

"That's classified. But I can tell you that you and I, we have the same goal." For a moment she thought he was talking about Mitch, then he moved to his computer and hit a key. Mansdale's image filled one of the screens, and Jamie began to understand.

"You're a Hunter?"

"No," Logan shook his head quickly. "The Shepherd Hunters are unsanctioned. Rogue. And they don't want justice, they want vengeance. The organization I work for now, they want to find the Shepherds so they can be held accountable. So they can stand trial for their crimes."

The idea that Logan was even talking about accountability and justice hit her as ironic, but she kept that thought to herself. Mostly. "So you're legit now?" Jamie spat derisively. "Do they know about your past?"

"No," he told her honestly. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell them about it."

"I don't owe you anything."

Logan just smirked cryptically. "You will."

Jamie scoff was met with a knowing smile, and Logan gestured for her to open the second door. She almost didn't, just to see that smug smirk fall from his face, but in the end her inherent need for answers made her reach for the knob.

"Oh my God," she whispered. It was their plane, the one that had been their home for almost a year.

"Surprise."

Jamie ignored Logan's smug tone and walked around to the open bay doors. Two vehicles were parked inside, though both were far newer than the SUVs that had come with the plane originally. She stepped inside slowly, giving herself time to process the wave of nostalgia and heartache that hit her. She glanced at the door at the top of the stairs and almost turned away; she wasn't sure she was strong enough to step into the lab - into his lab - knowing he wouldn't be there.

"We've made some upgrades," Logan said quietly, as though he sensed the heaviness of her thoughts. "Wanna see?" She appreciated the verbal prod he was giving her, though she'd never tell him. Her pride wouldn't let her admit her fears, so she steeled herself and slid the door back.

The chill in the air was the first thing she noticed. The lab had never been cold to her before, not with him here. No matter what was going on in her head, no matter how the cold crept into her bones, she could always come to the lab - to him - and find warmth. But it was like a tomb now, cold and silent. There was no comforting hum of machinery or the bubbling of Moe's tank filter. The faint guitar notes straining through earbuds and gentle rhythmic tapping of fingers against stainless steel were only in her head, and when she took another breath the oppressive silence slammed into her. She almost took a step back to get away, but Logan's presence stopped her.

"The IADG contacted us a few years ago and asked if we wanted the plane," he said. "They were going to scrap it, but that didn't feel right. So I told my boss to take it. We've overhauled the pilot interface." He gestured for her to keep walking, and she made a beeline for the back hall with him right behind her. He took the lead as they ascended the spiral stairs to the cockpit, which Jamie was surprised to see wide open.

The door had been removed, along with both seats and most of the instrumentation. She turned to Logan with a puzzled frown, but before she could ask he spun around with a tablet in his hand.

"The entire plane can be controlled with this," he told her. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"The entire plane?"

"Yep," he grinned. "You don't even have to be in the plane. It has a pretty good range, so you can warm up the engines and do pre-flight checks before you even get to the airport."

"Okay, what's going on?" Jamie stepped back and shook her head. "Why are you showing me all of this?"

Logan's smile fell and he tucked the tablet back into a small slot next to the cockpit. "I know you want Mansdale," he said as he turned back toward her. "And I know why."

"You don't know anyth -"

"I know you think Mansdale is Duncan, or knows who it is. I know you think he can lead you to Mitch, or at least point you in the right direction. Am I warm?" Jamie just crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing. "Look, I know you and I don't have the best relationship -"

"We don't have any relationship!" she interjected.

" -but, I think I can help you."

She tried to gauge his sincerity, but Logan had always been hard to read. It was how he'd fooled her in the first place. He seemed earnest enough, but then again he always had. "How?" she asked finally. "Why?"

"I know where Mansdale is," he answered her first question. "As for the second question...I want to bury the hatchet. I want us to be friends again."

"That presumes we were ever friends in the first place."

He looked genuinely hurt at her words. "We were, or at least I thought we were."

"Was this during the weeks where you were selling us out to Davies right under our noses? Because if so, you have a very weird definition of friendship."

"Look," he sighed in exasperation, "I'm offering an olive branch here. You and I take the plane and go find Mansdale. You can question him, see if he knows anything about where Mitch is. After that, I deliver him to my bosses."

Jamie couldn't help one last jab. "I bet bringing in Mansdale would score you serious brownie points. Maybe even a promotion."

His exasperation grew to irritation. "You want in or not? Because I'm leaving in an hour either way."

Her answer came almost immediately. "I'm in." There was no way she was going to let this opportunity slip by. She was certain Mansdale could lead her to Mitch, and until she knew for certain that there was no hope - that he was truly gone - she wouldn't give up.

Mansdale had holed himself up in what Jamie graciously deemed a hovel in Guatemala. Jamie had expected a team to meet them, but Logan surprised her again.

"Just you and me," he said as he handed her a rifle from the gun locker. "You still remember how to use one of those things?"

"Sure," she gripped the stock a little too hard. "Point and click, right?"

He smirked as he checked his ammo. "Right."

The moment Logan had flashed his badge at locals, they pointed toward the north side of town then bolted. Mansdale was eating breakfast when they burst through the door. An elderly couple cowered in the corner crying and pleading in Spanish, but Mansdale just looked up from his bowl calmly.

"Took you long enough."

Logan had made other upgrades, too, including a long cell in the bowel of the plane. They dumped Mansdale in rather roughly before slamming the door.

"We'll be back to talk about things in a few hours," Logan sneered. "Thank you in advance for your cooperation."

As far as intimidating lines went, it wasn't the best. Jamie followed Logan up to the main level, then raised her eyebrows in question.

He shrugged. "What?"

"'Thank you in advance for your cooperation?'"

"Best I could do on short notice."

"He's not gonna tell us anything." Jamie began pacing around underneath the stairs that led to the top level. "He's been on the run for almost ten years. He's smart and resourceful. We can't come at him directly."

"So now you're an expert at interrogation?" Logan had leaned back against the railing with his arms crossed over his shoulder. When Jamie turned, he just waited expectantly.

"I used to be an investigative journalist, remember?" she countered. "It means I'm good at getting information from people." She waited a beat, knowing her next request would be met with resistance. "I need to talk to him alone."

Predictably, Logan shook his head. "No way!"

"Look, either he knows where Mitch is or he doesn't. Either way, the faster we learn what he knows, the faster you can take him and I can go find Mitch."

"You're gonna find Mitch on your own?"

"If I have to." There was no hesitation or uncertainty in her voice. He was out there somewhere, she could feel it, and she wouldn't rest until he was found. This was the closest she'd gotten in nine years and she wouldn't let the opportunity escape.

"Why don't we both go down there?" Logan offered. "Good cop, bad cop. If you want, I'll let you be bad cop."

Jamie cringed at his suggestive undertone and met his glare with her own. "Because you hit him pretty hard with that rifle, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't like you. You go down there, he's gonna shut down and refuse to tell us anything."

"He's probably not going to tell us anything anyway," Logan said. "I say we let him sweat for a while. You hungry? I saw a little cafe on our way into town. I'll buy breakfast."

Jamie almost refused. She was so close to finally finding out what had happened to Mitch; she wasn't even thinking about food. But then a plan began to form, and she changed her mind.

"Fine," she barked after a few long seconds, hoping to seem reluctant. "But the moment we get back…" She let the rest of the sentence hang, knowing he would understand her meaning.

But he was so relieved she'd accepted his invitation that her motive went undetected. "Sure, sure."

A quick "bathroom break" was long enough for her to go upstairs and swipe the plane's tablet. Logan had run her through the basics on the flight down, so she felt relatively confident she could at least get airborne. The rest she could figure out later.

It was almost ridiculously easy to lose Logan once they were in the town proper. He underestimated her, thought she had lost her edge after almost a decade of a "regular" life. But the instincts were still there. That same drive that had kept her alive in Canada, kept her moving when all hope seemed lost, allowed her to separate herself from him quite easily in the morning bustle of the marketplace. All it took was a frantic plea to the local authorities - her Spanish was rusty but it was enough to get her point across - and Logan suddenly had more than he bargained for.

She stayed only long enough to watch him get taken into custody, watch him struggle as he searched for her in the crowd. Did he know what she'd done - know that she'd lied to his face and to the police in order to get what she wanted? Did he feel betrayed, hurt that she could do this after he'd helped her? Probably, but she couldn't think about that right now. She shoved aside the sick feeling forming in the pit of her stomach and raced for the plane, her fingers already tapping out the pre-flight sequence on the tablet. Right now, her sole focus was to find Mitch no matter the cost. She could deal with the moral ramifications later.


	36. No Place Like Home-Off to See the Wizard

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 36: No Place Like Home - Off to See the Wizard

 _After receiving startling news, Jamie sets off on a quest to Siberia with an unlikely ally._

* * *

The plane was airborne moments after Jamie boarded. It didn't take her long to adjust to the fast takeoff; Trotter had pulled them out of some hairy situations back in the day. Once she was at a good cruising altitude, she laid in a course for the airport that sat thirty miles from her aunt's house. She wasn't sure she wanted to actually go, but it was better than flying aimlessly in circles wasting fuel.

She grabbed her phone and searched through her contacts for anyone who could help her. She scrolled past Allison's name easily - the woman had all but cut ties with Jamie and the others when she'd run for President and lost. There were a few hopeful candidates but none that jumped out at her, so she stowed her phone and made her way to the lower level of the plane.

Mansdale was still huddled on the floor of the cell. He was sporting a new bruise on his right cheek, and as Jamie came into view he scowled.

"Thanks for the warning," he sneered.

"Sorry," Jamie tried to sound contrite but probably just came off as bored. "Listen, I ditched Logan in Guatemala. He wants to take you back to the IADG to face a trial for your crimes, but I have another option for you." He seemed more amused than interested, but Jamie plowed ahead. "First off, I have to ask you a question and I'd like an honest answer."

Mansdale just scoffed. "And why would I cooperate with you? You kidnapped me!"

"Because I don't care about your supposed crimes. Whatever part you played in this horror story, it's over and done. There's no point in punishing you - it won't changed what happened and I'm fairly certain given the chance to do it over again you would." He shrugged affably as if to indicate she was right, then gestured for her to continue. "I need to know if you're the Falcon."

There was a brief moment of surprise, then he laughed. "Of course not. I've played my part. The Falcon is someone you'll never be able to touch."

"So you know who it is?"

"Yes."

"And Mr. Duncan?"

There was a flicker of _something_ that crossed Mansdale's face - Jamie thought it was almost fear - but then it was gone, replaced by that contemptuous sneer. "What about him?"

"I suppose you know who he is, too?"

"Maybe." The shift from certainty to ambiguity told Jamie there was something important here, but before she could question him further he shifted to stand and leaned against the front bars. "I know what you really want, Jamie Campbell. And I'm prepared to help you, _if_ -" he added hastily before she could interrupt " - you help me."

Jamie was prepared to offer him almost anything he wanted if he could help her find Mitch. "What kind of help?"

"Take me somewhere."

"Where?"

"Oh, I don't know...how about Montenegro?"

Jamie sighed. "I supposed the fact that the sovereign state has a strict no-extradition policy where the US is concerned has no bearing here." It didn't really matter - if he really knew where Mitch was then she'd take him anywhere he wanted to go. "Alright," she agreed. "You help me, I'll take you to Montenegro."

He nodded eagerly. "How about some food, too? You guys did interrupt my breakfast."

"Fine." She turned and made her way back upstairs to change their course and raid the kitchen. She paused halfway up, turning her body to glance back at her captive-turned-accomplice. "Oh, and Mansdale? If you're lying to me, if you try to trick me or double cross me, I'll drop you into the Atlantic from cruising altitude. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She returned with a plate of sandwiches and the plane tablet. She plotted the course while Mansdale ate, cursing quietly as she realized they were going to fall far short of their destination.

"I can help with that, too," Mansdale said around a mouthful. "I've got contacts in Germany who can get us refueled and back in the air in under an hour. Once we're on the ground there, I can give you the information you want."

"You know where Mitch is?"

"I don't even know if he's alive," Mansdale admitted. "But I've heard rumors. Rumors of a secret facility in Siberia. The whispers began right around the time he went missing."

"How do you know when he went missing?" Jamie demanded sharply.

"We kept tabs on all of you," he told her honestly. "At least, until we started being hunted."

Jamie ignored the jab. "And you think he's being held in this secret facility?"

"I think the IADG thinks he is."

Jamie felt her world spin for a moment. "What the hell are you talking about? The IADG doesn't know where Mitch is."

"Is that what they told you?" The sneer was back, but there was an undercurrent of sympathy in his tone. "The IADG has one priority right now - stop the hybrids. That they know of, there's only one person who can figure them out, and that's Mitch Morgan. If they know where he is, getting to him is of paramount importance."

"What do you mean 'that they know of?'" It was an odd choice of words, and Mansdale squirmed a little as Jamie pressed forward. "What else do you know?"

"When we land in Germany, I'll tell you everything."

"What's wrong with right now?"

The contempt was back in place, masking whatever detente they'd managed to reach. "Right now, I need a bathroom. Unless you want a mess to clean up?"

Jamie knew she couldn't keep him detained, not if she wanted him to help her. "Okay. I'm going to let you out. Don't make me regret it."

"Hey, so long as you keep up your end of the deal," he brushed the last crumbs from his hands and shifted away from the door so Jamie could open it. "Now, where are the bathrooms?"

The flight to Germany took almost fourteen hours, and they were nearly flying on fumes by the time they landed. Jamie had grabbed a nap on the plane only after Mansdale had agreed to go back into the cell for the duration. He was almost understanding about the whole ordeal, and Jamie felt a small twinge of regret when she'd overslept her alarm and let him out almost two full hours after she said she would.

As they descended the ramp in the small military grade vehicle, Mansdale cracked his neck dramatically. "I hope there's a good masseuse in Montenegro."

"Alright, don't milk it. Where to?"

He took her to a small apartment complex a few miles from the airstrip. With the time difference and more than half a day spent in the air, it was just past eight in the morning when they pulled up to a quaint home tucked behind a grove of trees down a winding driveway. Mansdale greeted the man behind the door with a broad grin and a warm hug. Jamie knew very little German, but from what little she could glean it was clear Mansdale and this man went way back.

Once the men had finished their embrace they turned toward her. The ex-Shepherd extended a hand toward her. "Rami, this is Jamie Campbell."

"Ah!" Rami's face lit up as he reached to hold her smaller hand between his. "The author! I loved your latest novel." His accent was thick but understandable as he raved. "Please, please, come in!"

Jamie snagged Mansdale's shirt as Rami led the way toward the kitchen. "What's -"

"Shh," he silenced her quickly. "Rami's a bit...energetic, but he's got more connections than a seventies switchboard. He'll get us what we need."

Rami's enthusiasm extended well past a cup of tea and some sweets. He served them nearly a three-course meal before Mansdale brought up the subject of the plane.

"Montenegro, eh, Greg?" Rami smiled knowingly. "Well, at least you picked a beautiful spot for your exile."

Jamie's eyes shot up from her plate. "Exile?"

"Greg here is on the run, as you know," Rami explained. "But it's not just the Hunters that want him."

"That's enough," Mansdale grumbled. "Can you help or not?"

"Of course I can," Rami scoffed good-naturedly. "Just give me the address of the airport and the hangar number - I can have the plane refueled in an hour."

Mansdale sighed in relief. "Thank you." Jamie kicked him sharply beneath the table, and he coughed once before going on. "Rami, is your computer still encrypted?"

" _Sei nicht so blöd_ ," Rami laughed. "Of course it is."

"Great. Can we use it?"

It only took Mansdale a few minutes to get past the IADG firewall. Once in, he paused with his fingers over the keyboard and glanced at Jamie. "Are you sure you want to know what they know? It might be bad news."

But Jamie had waited long enough. "Either way, I have to know for sure."

Mansdale nodded once, setting his fingers to the keys and accessing the information she wanted. The first few files were reports on Mitch's notes both pre- and post-cure and his work with the AZA. Jamie felt sick to her stomach as she realized that they'd been followed almost every day since Pangaea. Details about their life were contained in those files, details no one any right to. Jamie was tempted to get Mansdale to delete them, but that might alert the IADG to their breach. Instead, she forced herself to move past it and focus on the more recent files.

"What's that one?" Jamie pointed to a folder labeled "Blue Diaspora."

"That's strange," Mansdale murmured. "That was one of the projects on Pangaea's mainframe as well."

"What was it about?"

"I'm not sure," he told her. "It was need-to-know."

"And you didn't," Jamie finished for him. "Click on it."

The folder contained only a few files. The most recent was a photo extension with an alphanumeric label that meant nothing to either of them. Mansdale clicked on the file and waited for the photo to load.

The image that filled the screen made Jamie's blood freeze. She gasped involuntarily, but it caught against the sob in her throat as she covered her trembling lips with one hand. The picture was grainy - as though captured from an out-of-date security camera - that showed a large laboratory, dark except for the bright blue glow emanating from the cylindrical tank in the center of the screen. Inside the tank a body floated in perfect suspension, arms askew and shoulder length hair fanning out around a bearded face. Jamie had never seen a more perfect picture.

"Mitch…" Her fingers reached out automatically, as though she could touch him through the screen, before she checked the motion and returned her hand to her lap. Her throat tightened with a dozen warring emotions, and with great effort she managed to whisper, "Where is he?"

"Siberia," Mansdale confirmed. "There's another file that gives the coordinates. It looks like they're putting together a mission to retrieve him."

"H-how long?" Jamie felt an ember of fury ignite in her stomach, burning low but steady. "How long have they known he's alive?"

"It's hard to say," Mansdale said. "But there's something else. According to the IADG files, he's only been in the tank for eight months."

Jamie shook her head in disbelief. "No, that can't be right. He's been missing for over nine years." The ember was growing hotter, spreading like a wildfire through her veins. "What the hell is going on?"

"I'm not sure, but I can help you find out."

"Why would you help me?"

"You saved my neck from the chopping block," he shrugged one shoulder casually, though Jamie could see in his eyes just how relieved he was. "Plus, I really want to know what this 'Blue Diaspora' is."

On the long list of odd reluctant allies, Jamie filed Mansdale somewhere between her sixth grade science fair buddy and her college homecoming date. But if he could help her find Mitch, she'd partner with the devil himself.

"Alright. Then I guess we're headed to Siberia." She stood up, her body suddenly buzzing with energy. "How long until the plane is ready?"

"At least another thirty minutes," Mansdale told her.

"I'm...I need to make a call." She stepped out into the hallway and pulled her phone from her pocket. The number was one of only a handful she had memorized. The line rang almost five full times before it connected.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was quiet and slurred, as though still half-asleep.

"Hey Clem, it's me."

Jamie heard a sharp crash of static over the line as the other woman shifted the phone slightly. "Time is it?"

"It's…" Jamie checked the clock on the wall and winced. It was probably still the middle of the night back in the states. "It's late. I'm sorry. Listen, I just…" Her first thought after seeing Mitch in that tank had been one of retribution, but the second had been of her. Clem would be overjoyed to hear that her father wasn't dead. But as the moment came, Jamie found she couldn't get the words past the block in her throat.

"Jamie," Clem sounded more awake now, worry coloring her tone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Jamie was quick to reassure her but was astounded to realize that it was true. "Nothing's wrong, sweetie. I…" She swallowed thickly and tried to keep her voice as steady as she could. "Clem, I need you to listen to me and don't interrupt until I'm finished, okay?"

"Okay, but Jamie -"

"Please, Clem. Just listen. Please?" Jamie took the girl's silence as acquiescence and took a quick breath before forging ahead. "I've come across some startling information in the IADG databanks about your father. He's not dead, Clem."

"Jamie, no," Clem cut her off. "I can't do this again."

"Clem, I know. I know how difficult this must be. But just listen. He's being held in a secret military facility in Siberia. I'm in Germany right now, but we're leaving in less than an hour. I'm going to get him, Clem."

There was a beat, then the sound of a shuddering breath came over the line. Clem was crying. "Jamie...no. He's gone. You _know_ he's gone. Please...please just stop."

"He's not gone," Jamie dug her heels in, fighting past tears of her own as she listened to Clem struggling. "We never knew for certain. When we...when _I_ finally stopped looking, I did that for you. I could see how hard things were for you, having to go through losing your father all over again. I realized if I kept up the search - if I tried to keep hope alive any longer - I would lose you, too. So I stopped looking. But I never stopped believing he was out there."

The confession drained her, and Jamie could only wait as she listened for Clem's answer. It was not what Jamie expected.

"I never stopped believing either."

Jamie sank to the floor as a sob burst from her throat, and she clutched the phone tighter as though she could embrace the girl on the other end. Clem was crying again, too, and it was a few moments before they had composed themselves enough to finish their conversation.

"Jamie, are you sure? Is it really him?"

Jamie smiled through her drying tears. "It's him, Clem. Your father is alive."

"Then I want to come with you." There was a firm resolve in Clem's voice that Jamie recognized; there would be no talking her out of it.

"I'm already in Germany, honey. We're leaving soon."

Clem was almost desperate now. "Jamie, please. I need to be there."

"Okay, sweetie, hold on." Jamie placed her other hand over the phone and went in search of Rami and Mansdale. They were chatting quietly in front of the computer screen, but when she entered they stopped to look at her. "Mitch's daughter is coming with us." She phrased it as a statement rather than a question. "I'm putting her on a flight from the states today. Would you mind if we imposed upon your hospitality just a bit longer?"

"Of course not," Rami grinned.

"Jamie," Mansdale warned, but she ignored him.

"Thank you." She lifted the phone back to her ear to speak to Clem. "I'm going to get you a flight and text you the details. Pack for cold weather."

"Thank you, Jamie."

"Be safe, Clem. I love you."

"I love you, too. See you soon."

Jamie booked her on the next available flight and sent her the details before sliding the device back into her pocket.

"This is a bad idea," Mansdale growled. "The longer we stay here, the better the odds of someone finding us."

"Finding you, you mean," Jamie corrected.

"I'm not sure if you remember, but you're the one who ditched your boyfriend in Guatemala. His bosses are probably not terribly happy with you right now."

"He's not my boyfriend," Jamie shot back. "And we are not leaving without Clem." Jamie had control of the tablet - and thereby the plane - and Mansdale knew it. He could probably get to Montenegro from here without her help, but it would riskier.

"Fine," he relented, turning back to the screen. She could see he was still digging through the IADG files, so she creeped a little closer.

"What have you found?"

"I don't know yet," he snapped. "I'm still sorting. I'll let you know if I find something."

Jamie wasn't sure he was being entirely truthful, but she'd pushed him far enough for one day. "Okay." She turned to their host with a friendly smile. "Is there a shower I can use?"

"Of course," he raised his arm in invitation, leading her away from the office and down a narrow hall. "You can use this guest room for the night. There is a bathroom across the hall that should be stocked up. Please make yourself at home."

Jamie flashed him a brighter smile. " _Danke_." She didn't know much German, but that much she could manage.

Rami grinned. " _Gern geschehen_ , my dear." He patted her on the shoulder and left her standing at the open door. It was a modest room with a double bed and a small four-drawer dresser vanity. The window was framed with gossamer white curtains, tied back by a ribbon. Through it, Jamie could see the expansive backyard, neatly clipped and fenced.

Finally alone with her thoughts, Jamie sank down on the bed. He was alive. Mitch was alive, and they were going to get him. She remembered the tank and the lab and wondered how the hell he'd gotten there. Mansdale said it had been active for less than a year. Where had he been before that? And who was keeping him?

Jamie felt her mind grow heavy with each passing thought, weighed down by grief and anger. She needed to shower and sleep before Clem arrived, and to clear her head before they went to rescue Mitch. Her heart fluttered in her chest as hope - long dormant and forgotten - blossomed within her. She reached up and looped her finger through the chain around her neck, pulling it free from the confines of her collar. Her wedding ring was warm from sitting next to her heart, and as she grasped it in her fist she felt that warmth seep into her cool hands. Jamie closed her eyes as she whispered a hopeful promise into the silence.

"I'm on my way."


	37. Diaspora - Can't Go Home Again

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 37: Diaspora - Can't Go Home Again

 _Mitch is rescued by an unlikely source with an ulterior motive._

* * *

He heard her shift, a soft sound against the sheets as she sat up. His eyes opened sluggishly and his entire body ached as though he'd been swimming for hours. He was cold without her, though he made no move to reach for her and keep her in bed. He remembered her teasing, him, asking him to recite the presidents in order - a long-forgotten skill from his sixth grade talent show. He didn't remember falling asleep mid-recitation, but now that he was awake he couldn't help continue from where he'd left off.

"...uh, James Buchanan, Lincoln, Grant, Garfield…"

If she was surprised by his odd topic choice, she didn't comment. He caught a glimpse of the pale expanse of her back, marred only by the small tattoo on her left shoulder. She covered quickly with an old flannel he recognized as his, though she'd long ago appropriated it into her own wardrobe. She stood as she closed it around her.

"What on earth possessed you to think that memorizing the order of presidents was a talent show worthy skill?"

He cut his eyes over to her, unable to turn his head for the stiffness there, and smirked. "Well, it was either that or show them my bug collection." She wrinkled her nose and he laughed. "Anyway, I thought it would be a way to get people to at least talk to me. Mom said I needed to make more friends."

"How many friends did you have?"

"Zero."

That drew an amused snort from her, and she moved over to the small island bar that separated the living space from the kitchen. Mitch had been to this cabin enough with his mother that he could likely navigate it in the dark, and he was pleased to see Jamie so comfortable here.

She folded her elbows and tucked her arms underneath her as she leaned against the surface. "Did it work?"

"Not really," he moved his shoulder a fraction in an imitation of a shrug. "But after that, I was the kid that knew things."

"And now you're the man who knows things," she finished for him. "Is that why you're…" her voice trailed off suddenly, and his heart began hammering in his chest.

"Jamie?" He tried to lift his head, to look at her and make sure she was okay, but his body wouldn't obey. "I can't move."

"It's gonna be okay," she told him, though now he could barely make out her voice through the rush of his own blood in his ears. "I'm gonna find you."

 _Find me? I'm right here!_

Panic rose in him, and she repeated her promise as the world slowly grew dark.

There was no way to mark the passage of time in the bleak nothingness. Mitch was aware of the darkness, and of his own body, but he could not move no matter how hard he tried. He tried screaming, but he couldn't even take a breath. He was going to die, he thought briefly, then replaced that thought with another. _I'm already dead._

There was a thud in the darkness, and in that instant the oppressive blackness became so empty. There had been, not a noise, but a feeling, a small vibration that he hadn't even notice except that it was gone now. Something had happened.

He tried to take a breath again, and this time he felt his lungs actually expand. Pain lanced in his chest, and his eyes snapped open _(when did I close them)_ from the force of it. Distorted figures stood just inches away, though he couldn't focus on them. His mind registered bubbles around him, and he realized with a jolt of fear that he was underwater. _No_ , he corrected, _I'm in a tank._

The figures scrambled to get him out, but Mitch knew they wouldn't be successful. There wasn't time. He could faintly hear the buzz of a drill, feel the vibration of it through the water, but it was so far away. His lungs burned, ached for a breath and he fought against the urge to gulp until he couldn't any more. Still, he tried to clench his teeth together. His vision began to blur, then fade as his brain demanded oxygen and didn't receive it. His muscles went slack and he took a breath instinctively. His chest filled with water, and his panic ramped up into full blown hysteria. He fought, but without air his body was weak. He thrashed once, twice, and then…

He exploded upward, his abdomen heaving with the effort of expelling the water from his lungs. He felt hands on him, and a sharp, burning pain in his chest. He coughed violently, retching over and over again until his lungs were clear of fluid.

"Morgan," a voice called, and though his mind was still sluggish he knew someone wanted his attention. "Look at me." He did, his body shivering from adrenaline and cold. The man's face was worried but relieved, and he offered Mitch a small smile as he patted his shoulder. "We're here to help you," he said. "You're gonna be okay."

It took a few tries, but with a few extra hands they managed to get Mitch to his feet. He was still unsteady, so the same man who had spoke earlier kept a firm hold of his arm as they led him to a smaller room off to the side. Someone had left a blue jumpsuit similar to the ones Mitch had seen everyone wearing, and he fingered the familiar IADG patch on the sleeve.

"I'll leave you to get dressed, if you think you can manage by yourself." His tone rose slightly at the end, and Mitch nodded in answer. "Alright. I'll be just outside." He grabbed the door to pull it closed behind him. "Come on out when you're ready."

Mitch felt another shiver rattle through him from the inside out, and he scrambled out of the soggy shorts he was in and slipped the dry clothes on. There was a small towel underneath them, and Mitch used it to dry his hair. The motions were automatic but he knew there was something wrong, something different, but his brain wouldn't work fast enough to figure it out. When he was relatively dry, he shuffled back to the door and opened it.

"Doctor Morgan," the man didn't offer his hand again, but he stayed close to Mitch as they walked slowly to a pair of chairs framing a small fold out table. "Please have a seat." Mitch did with some difficulty, his muscles protesting all the way. "My name is Lieutenant Myers," he said, "of the International Animal Defense Group. IADG. We know what a traumatic experience this has been for you, and we know that you're eager to get back to your friends and family."

 _Family_. Mitch's eyes shot up at the word. Once again, there was something very important he was supposed to be remembering, but his mind wouldn't cooperate. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His throat burned, and he winced sharply as he tried again. "We're running a few tests to make sure you're stable enough to travel," Myers explained. "How does that sound?" Mitch was still trying to process what was happening, and Myers seemed to take his silence as acquiescence. "Great." He nodded to a pair of men standing off on the side, but at the signal they came forward and began hooking Mitch up to a variety of machines. Almost automatically, his mind supplied the names of each one and its function, but he couldn't really figure out why it was needed.

 _Where am I?_ He stared hard at Myers, willing the man to answer the unspoken question. Myers either didn't notice or ignored it in favor of opening a folder. "Let's begin," he prompted. "Do you know what year it is?" _Year? How long have I been here?_ Mitch just stared back, unable to even shake his head. "Do you know where you are?" A sharp pain at his elbow made Mitch startle, and he looked down to see an IV being inserted. "That's just warm saline," Myers reassured him. "We need to raise your body temperature." After a few seconds Mitch relaxed and Myers continued his interrogation. "Do you remember how you got here?" Again, Mitch's brain wasn't processing anything fast enough, and he couldn't seem to remember how to even shrug. "Are you not answering because you don't know the answer, or because you don't understand what I'm saying?"

Myers seemed genuinely concerned now, and Mitch worried for a moment that he would never be able to answer. He remembered the tank and the oppressive chill of the water. Had his brain been deprived of oxygen too long? What if never recovered?

His panic was beginning to raise his heart rate, and the machine to his left began beeping rapidly. Myers held out a hand in a placating gesture and tried to calm him. "Alright, it's okay. Hey, look, we'll try something else." His eyes glanced down to the Mitch's hands resting on the table and smiled. "Tap your left hand," he touched Mitch's free hand," for 'yes' and you're right hand," he tapped the other, "for 'no.' Alright? Let's try again. Do you know what year it is?"

Mitch concentrated fiercely on his right hand, and after a few brief seconds it lifted weakly and fell back to the table. The move seemed to kickstart something in his brain, and he felt the muscles of his arms loosening and responding to his conscious thought again.

"Do you know what year it is?" _Right hand_. "Do you know your name?" _Left hand_. "Okay good. Do you know where you are?" _Right hand_. "Do you remember who put you in the tank?" Mitch slammed his right hand down a little harder than before, and Myers sat back. "Okay, okay. No more questions for now. How about some answers." _Left hand_.

Mitch listened as Myers explained that he'd been missing for almost nine years. Something about that made him panic again, but he couldn't quite recall why that would be so upsetting beyond the normal shock of losing almost a decade of his life. He found out where he was (Siberia) and who they believed had put him here (The Shepherds) but beyond that Myers didn't offer anything substantial.

"The IADG has been looking for you for a long time," Myers said. "You were last seen in Los Angeles. Do you remember that?" Mitch closed his eyes and tried to grasp the wisps of memory that were floating about his mind, but none of the solidified into anything he recognized. _Right hand_. "That's okay. We're here to help you but you have to trust us, okay?"

Frustration mounted again, and Mitch curled his fingers inward in an approximation of a fist. He should be able to speak - he could remember that much at least - but it was like there was a road block between his brain and his mouth. Something was rattling around in there, trying to escape, but it had no outlet. It needed out, urgently. It pounded against his skull and he clenched his jaw from the pain as he tried to figure out a way to get it out. His eyes fell on the pen in Myers' breast pocket, and he reached for it eagerly.

"The pen? You want the pen?" Myers plucked it from the pocket and offered it to him. There were papers on the table, so Mitch slid them over and gripped the pen in his right hand. It felt odd, like his muscles weren't used to the position. Mitch forced himself to concentrate, his hand shaky as he drew the pen across the paper. "That's good, take your time," Myers coaxed. Mitch wasn't entirely sure what he was writing, just that it had to get out. He was trembling so much that Myers had to steady the paper, and whatever he was writing fell from the pen onto the paper. "Okay," Myers waited patiently, though Mitch could tell the other man was as confused by the scribbles as he was. "What is that? What does that say?"

It was gibberish. Mitch glanced down at the hastily scrawled message and realized he hadn't even managed a single word. It was more like a doodle from a kindergartner, all squiggly lines and large loops. But it was _important_. He slammed his hand down on the paper repeatedly, as though that would make the nonsense any easier to understand.

"What does that mean?" Myers tried again. This time Mitch ripped the paper off the table, holding it up for Myers to see. He pointed at the scribble, willing the man to make sense of what had come out of his brain. He needed someone to make sense of it all, needed someone to understand. But Myers just shook his head. "What does that mean?"

But Mitch wasn't paying attention any longer. Because on the other side of the paper, staring at him from a small square dossier photograph, was _her_. He flipped the paper over and tapped her face quickly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Myers straighten up, and Mitch looked up furiously.

 _Where is she?_

Myers stood up and grabbed the paper before Mitch could protest. "I'm going to see run this through a database," he showed Mitch the scribble on the back as though he hadn't noticed the behavior shift. "We'll sort it out, Doctor Morgan."

Mitch tried to stand up and follow, tried to reach out and grab Myers and shake him until he gave him more answers. Because he had so many more questions. _Is she okay? Where are my friends? When can I go home?_ But Myers wasn't interested in any of those questions, and Mitch was helpless to push the issue.

Myers returned some time later with more men in tow. One of them looked like the leader, a gruff man with cropped hair and a salt and pepper scruff on his cheeks. His eyes were hard, and where Myers had shown Mitch sympathy and compassion, this man was on a mission. The other was a younger man, like Myers. He held a tablet in one hand and a stack of cards in the other. He took the seat across from Mitch as Myers took up position near his left shoulder. Their leader stood back a few paces, his arms crossed and his eyes unreadable.

"This is Captain Gaines," Myers introduced the gruff man first, "and Lieutenant McClure. We've been trying to make sense of your message and we think we've got a few possibilities."

Lieutenant McClure cleared his throat and tapped the screen of his tablet before turning it around to show Mitch. "I uploaded your message into a program, then searched every image database for possible matches. I printed out cards with the closest matches. Let me know if any of these spark something, okay?"

He held up the first one. "This one is the alchemical symbol for 'silicon.'" It was a triangle inside a circle. "It was a 65 percent match. There was also a 60 percent match for this one," he held up another, this one a small equilateral triangle attached by one side to a vertical line. "The alchemical symbol for 'gateway.'"

He went through a few more, but none of them looked familiar to Mitch. He glared at Myers, hoping to catch his eye and find out what happened to the paper, but the other man steadfastly refused to look at him.

"This one is a 90 percent match to the alchemical symbol that represents 24 hours," McClure dropped another card to the table hopefully. This one had two connecting but not overlapping circles. There was an arrow coming off each one on directly opposing sides. It was close, but Mitch had no idea what it meant. "And this one," he dropped the last card, "is a 72 percent match to the Indian rupee. We're trying to find the rest."

"Maybe it's a code," Myers leaned over the table to peer at the tablet.

"It's gibberish," Gaines barked. "He can't help us."

Mitch gazed down at the cards hoping something would jump out at him. He was good at puzzles, he remembered, and all he had to was piece this one together. His hands reached out and started shuffling cards around, maneuvering them around each other until it finally came together. Four cards, four completely separate symbols, but the word their shapes spelled was unmistakable.

"Proof," McClure guessed, then looked up at Mitch for confirmation. "Proof?"

 _Yes_. That was it. He needed proof. He needed to know these men were who they said they were, that they were here to help him. His brain was still fuzzy but he knew enough. He needed proof.

"He's not ready," Myers protested.

"He's ready," Gaines countered brusquely. Myers nodded reluctantly, then sank down in the chair that McClure had vacated.

"Doctor Morgan, I'm afraid this is going to come as a shock to you," he began softly. "There's someone here who's been waiting to see you."

A door opened on the far side of the room, and Mitch looked up as the others left. McClure was leading someone in, someone much more petite than the military men Mitch had been dealing with. This was a woman, a young woman, and though Mitch couldn't see her very well for the distance and the darkness, the way the others reacted to her was enough to spark Mitch's curiosity.

"Hi," she greeted him in a gentle tone, her steps slow and exaggerated as though she was afraid she'd startle him if she moved too quickly. "Are-are you sure you don't need anything?" She was nervous, he could tell by the way her voice quivered, and something in him wanted to reach out and comfort her. "Food? Or...or water? No," she let out a humorless laugh, " I guess not. You've probably had enough water for a lifetime." She waited for a response, but Mitch had none to give. He felt like he should know her - Myers had certainly implied that she knew him - but he couldn't seem to supply a name to go along with her voice. She was still a few feet from him, but he couldn't make out her face too well in the low light.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," she continued a bit more confidently, though she sniffled occasionally as though she was holding back a larger surge of emotion. "I had a lot, too. When they first told me they'd found you, I couldn't believe it." She was right next to him now, and he turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of long blondish hair and bright eyes.

"Part of me still doesn't," she continued. Her arm reached out and settled on his shoulder, then slid down lower as she crouched next to him. "But here you are." She was on the verge of crying now, though Mitch could tell her tears were happy ones. "We're together again. It's going to be okay, Dad."

 _Dad? No,_ his mind rebelled. _My daughter is twelve years old!_

"You recognize me now, don't you?" she urged, her tone pleading with him. "It's me. It's Clem."

He wanted it so desperately to be true. Even if he had missed the last nine years, he could trust Clem not to keep things from him. He managed to turn his head slightly and really look at her. He searched for any sign of his little girl in her eyes, but she looked so different. _It's been nine years_ , his brain reminded him. She was bound to have changed. The emotion in her eyes was unmistakable, and as he looked back at her she began to cry.

"It's gonna be okay, Dad." She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck as she spoke. "We're gonna figure this out and get you home, okay?"

 _Home_. That word sparked something, and finally he managed to reach his free hand up and pat her awkwardly on the shoulder as she hugged him. Clem sniffed loudly and pulled back almost embarrassed as she wiped her eyes and nose.

"Sorry, it's just...it's been so long. I had almost given up on finding you, but here you are." She pulled the second chair over so she could sit knee to knee with him. "Are you feeling any better?" He glanced down at the machines still attached to him by several wires. "Oh," Clem sighed. "It's okay, Dad. You don't have to talk. Lieutenant Myers said that it might take some time."

With the challenge issued, Mitch could do nothing but defy it. "Where am I?" Myers had told him, but he wanted to hear it from her.

"Siberia," she confirmed. "We're in an abandoned - well, I guess it _isn't_ really abandoned, is it? I got a call from Lieutenant Myers. He told me an IADG survey team found a man in a stasis tank in an abandoned compound. A man they believed to be my father. I thought it was cruel joke until they showed me this picture." She reached into her pocket and produced a small photo that looked like it had been printed from old security camera footage. It was grainy, but there was no mistaking it. It was clearly him inside the tank.

"I thought you were dead," Clem went on, her voice breaking on the last word. Her hand shot out to cover his, a seemingly unconscious gesture to reassure her that he was really there. Without thinking, he turned his hand over and gripped hers fiercely, wanting to offer her a measure of comfort for the decade-long hurt his absence had caused her. He wanted to apologize, to let her know that he'd never have left her on purpose, but he couldn't get the words out.

The nearest door opened and Myers walked in with a hopeful expression. "Has your dad started talking yet, Clementine?"

"A little but - "

Gaines was right behind Myers, all business. "Did you ask him?" Mitch glanced up sharply at his daughter, accusation and curiosity warring inside. So she _had_ been sent in for a purpose.

Clem shook her head. "Not yet."

Myers leaned over to check the EEG. "We'll get there. His brain's gamma frequency readings are still low."

"How long?" Gaines demanded.

"Hours," Myers answered. "Days, maybe. Look, we're in uncharted territory here. No one's been in stasis this long."

"Maybe we should just let him rest," Clem begged.

Gaines didn't look happy, but apparently he was unwilling to fight both of them. "Fine," he barked. "But there's a storm moving in, and I don't plan on being here when it hits." He left as abruptly as he'd come, Myers hot on his heels. Clem moved to follow, but Mitch's hand shot out to grab her arm in a desperate grip.

"Stay," he whispered. Even if the IADG had brought her in, she was still his daughter and he couldn't let her leave. Not until he was sure she would always come back.

"Okay," Clem patted his arm comfortingly and moved back to the seat, shifting her fingers from his arm to hold his hand. "I'm here, Dad."

For a while they didn't say anything. He could hear the bustle of people behind the door as they tore down equipment and packed up to leave. He wondered if, in all the chaos, that he would be forgotten again, but then he shook that thought away. Clem wouldn't let that happen. She was still next to him, her thumb massaging small circles into the back of his hand. Finally, she seemed unable to maintain the tense silence and took a breath.

"You must feel like Rip Van Winkle," she joked. "Waking up a new world. Humanity sterilized. The West Coast fallen. Packs of monsters roaming the streets." _How bad had things gotten? And where were his friends? His -_

"Jamie," he croaked. "Where's Jamie?" He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd forgotten. He'd left her there, out in the cold. Alone. _No_ , he corrected. They'd rescued Jamie from the wilderness. They'd gotten her out. She'd come back to him, and they were together. They'd gotten married. "Where is she?" he asked again when Clem didn't answer.

"She's...back in the States," Clem said reluctantly. "On a book tour, I think. She's a best-selling author now. Your story was worth a fortune, but she's the only one who saw a dime." There was a callousness in her voice that set off alarm bells in Mitch's head. Something wasn't right, but Clem kept going before he could ask another question. "The IADG thinks you know how to stop the hybrids. Do you remember anything about how you ended up in that tank? Who put you there or why?" He shook his head sharply, and Clem held up her hands. "Hey, it's okay. Just might take some time."

"Seventy nine, sixty." The words spilled from his lips before he could even think about them, like they'd been sitting on his tongue and could wait no longer.

"Seventy nine, sixty?" Clem repeated.

"Seeing your face again," he explained slowly, "the only thing that I can remember is seventy nine, sixty." He waited for anything, for a spark of recognition, but Clem just stared back blankly. "You don't remember." _It was eleven years ago, dummy. Of course she doesn't remember_. "The parking ticket I got the day your were born. Seventy nine dollars and sixty cents. Money well spent. Almost missed your birth." He was starting to tear up now as the realization that he'd missed another decade of her life hit him full force. "I missed your childhood. And now the last nine years. I swear," he leaned forward and gripped her hand fiercely, "I am not missing another second. _Ever_."

Moments of heavy emotion usually made Mitch uncomfortable, but it seemed like his brain wasn't completely back online yet so he let it slide. Clem just smiled back and reached for his head again. "It's great that you're remembering," she said finally. "They need you to remember something, too."

Mitch could feel eyes on them, and he wondered what they had told her to get her to pressure him so much. Had they threatened to keep him away from her? He wanted to ask, to promise her that he wouldn't let that happen no matter what, but it wasn't a conversation to have under watchful gazes. So, for now, he would play along and wait until he knew they were alone.

"What do they want to know?"

"They're looking for answers about some kind of program," Clem explained. "Blue Diaspora?" Individually, Mitch understood what those words meant, but together they meant nothing. He shook his head. "I don't know what it means," she continued, "but whatever it is, it's really important. It's the reason they came for you."

A door opened somewhere behind them, and Mitch leaned forward quickly. "What have they got? Have they got Jamie? Your grandmother? Whatever it is, I will get us out of here, okay?"

"How are we doing, Doctor Morgan?" It was Myers, sounding hopeful and upbeat. Mitch disliked him.

Clem pulled away from his grasp and stood. "His core temperature is coming up," she said quickly. He could see she'd been unnerved by his promise, almost scared, and Mitch felt his irritation at the IADG goons blossoming into hate.

"That's great," Myers leaned over to check the machines. "Heart rate stabilized, blood flow improving. Well," he straightened up and crossed his arms. "How about your memory? Anything coming back?"

"Yeah," he snapped, happy to hear he sounded almost like his old self. "I remember everything. Just waiting for you to upgrade me to a better room." It was a white lie - there were still pockets of his memory that seemed fuzzy and out of reach, but they didn't need to know. The more they thought him an asset, the easier it would be to get them to relax and let down their guard. Then he and Clem could make their escape.

"Well you got your sense of humor back," Myers chuckled. "So then, tell me, what do you remember about Blue Diaspora?"

"I'm sorry," Mitch kept his gaze steady, "I don't know what that is."

"I understand," Myers looked almost sympathetic. "But my team tells me otherwise. What's inside your head, it could help save a lot of people."

"How?" Warning bells were starting to go off in his head, and he glanced around briefly, hoping to spot anything that might help him if it came down to a fight. He had to protect Clem at all costs.

Myers just sighed. "I'm afraid that's classified. But you get back to your old self, we get your IADG clearance, you can help us."

Something clicked then, and Mitch scoffed. "Help the IADG? Last I checked, you tried to murder every animal on the planet. Then, when we _saved_ everyone, you took the credit like that had been your plan all along. So no thanks."

"I know your history with our organization - with General Davies - but that was ten years ago. I assure you, right now our priority is protecting people from the hybrid threat. And that's why we're here, but we need your help. We need you to remember."

"I don't know what to tell you," Mitch did his best to keep his tone level. "I've tried. There's nothing."

"That's alright." Mitch saw Myers' perfect mask slip only a little before he turned to check the readings. "It looks like your gamma frequencies are still lagging behind. I got some meds that should be able to help with that. Be right back."

The moment the door shut behind him, Clem was crouching next to him. "Whatever he gives you, don't take it." She sounded fearful now, and Mitch knew his instincts had been correct. Something was wrong.

"Clem, what are you not telling me?"

"We need to get out of here." She stood then and started disconnecting him from the EEG and IV. "These are not good people, and they're not with IADG."

"Who are they?"

"They're Shepherds."

Mitch reeled. "You're working with the Shepherds now?"

"Teaming up with them was the only chance I had at getting you back. I did what I had to do." She pulled the last plug as Mitch removed the needle from his own arm.

"Why would they bring you along?" He knew the answer already, but panic was starting to set in and he needed to focus.

"They knew that you would never trust them," she said. "They needed a familiar face. You know something about Blue Diaspora and they will do whatever it takes to get it out of you." She reached for him just as a speaker on the wall came to life with piercing scream.

That was the only motivator Mitch needed. "I don't know what that is, but it seems like a good time to get out here." He rose to his feet and took a step, then crashed to the floor when his legs wouldn't hold his weight. Clem was there in an instant helping him and slinging his arm around her shoulders. She took some of his weight and they managed to hobble their way to a door at the back of the room, away from where Myers and the others had been going.

They made it down a long corridor as the klaxon continue to blare overhead. He hoped Clem knew where she was going because right now Mitch's only thought was _away_. Away from Myers and Gaines and anyone who would try to hurt them. His muscles were screaming at him, and with each step he could feel himself relying on Clem more and more.

"This isn't going to work," she told him finally. "You can barely stand."

But he refused to give up. "We have to try."

"Oh is that right?" A cold voice stopped them both in their tracks. It was Gaines, and he looked murderous. He was holding a large handgun to bear, and Mitch tried to at least angle his body so that he was slightly in front of his daughter.

Clem, for her part, tried to play it off. "Please, we were just -"

"Shut up!" Gaines stepped closer and glared at Mitch. "You, sit down."

"No." He wouldn't leave his daughter's side, his flagging strength be damned.

But Gaines just sneered and repeated his order. When Mitch once again refused, Gaines grabbed his shoulder and shoved him sideways. Clem screamed as he crashed into a cabinet against the wall, and Mitch fought to regain his feet. But he couldn't do more than lean against the bent metal frame and when he looked back up Gaines had Clem by her hair.

"He doesn't know anything!" Clem cried, fighting against the man's hold.

"Maybe he just needs a little motivation," Gaines crooned, turning the gun to Clem's head.

"No, no, no, no!" Mitch struggled against the pain but couldn't get his feet under him to get to Clem.

Gaines was livid now, his face contorted in anger. He looked crazed and desperate, and Mitch felt a cold stab of dread deep in the pit of his stomach. "You give me Blue Diaspora, I give you your daughter. Easy. But if you keep playing dumb, you are gonna wish you never woke up." He pressed the muzzle of the gun into Clem's side and she sobbed.

"Dad!" she cried. "Please tell him! Dad, please!"

Mitch felt helpless, and he held out his hands imploringly. "Look, I...I told you. I don't know what that is!"

"You're a liar!" Gaines shouted.

"Dad tell him!"

Mitch pushed up a little straighter. "I'm not lying." He stared Gaines in the eye, hoping that if he kept his attention he might loosen his grip enough for Clem to get away. "I don't know what that is. I don't know how to help you. Look, I will do anything you want," he pleaded, hating the way his voice broke but unable to keep the emotion out with his daughter in pain just feet away, "but just d-don't hurt her."

But Gaines wasn't listening. He was hellbent on his mission and he was quickly reaching a breaking point. "Do you love your daughter?"

"Don't hurt her!" Mitch was the desperate one now, every fiber of his body screaming to get to Clem, to protect her, but unable to answer the call.

"Do you want to see your daughter alive?"

"Don't hurt her," Mitch repeated, hoping that if he said it enough Gaines would finally listen.

"Three!"

"I can't help you!"

"Two!"

"Don't! _Don't!_ " This was it. He was going to watch his daughter die in front of him and he was useless to stop it. White hot hatred erupted and he pushed away from the locker, stumbling a bit but keeping his feet. He couldn't let Gaines get to one.

The man opened his mouth to finish his countdown, but Clem had managed to worm her way free. She twisted Gaines' arm around behind him, sending the gun flying and dropping the man to his knees. She thrust her knee upward, connecting solidly with Gaines' jaw, and the man gave a loud grunt before falling to the floor.

Mitch had no weapon, but he'd always been good at improvising. The hatred that had sprung up before was still coursing through his veins, and as his eyes fell on the large wires and circuit box on the wall he didn't hesitate. It took surprisingly little effort to wrench a wire from its housing, the end sparking and buzzing from the still-live current. Mitch didn't know how many volts he was about to put into Gaines' body, but he didn't care. The man had threatened his daughter - nearly killed her - and he couldn't be left behind just to come after them again. He stabbed the live end of the wire down into Gaines, who was already pushing himself up to his hands and knees. His body convulsed violently the moment the current hit him, and he fell down unmoving after only a few seconds.

Mitch tossed the wire far away and reached for Clem. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She was breathing heavily but appeared otherwise unharmed. She reached down and picked up the discarded gun. "I'm fine, I think."

"You know how to use that?" It was yet another reminder of how much he'd missed, but the way Clem handled the weapon it clearly wasn't her first time.

Clem just reached across Gaines and unholstered his spare handgun. "Do you?" She offered it to him, and he held it loosely in his left hand as Clem moved under his right arm to take some of his weight again.

They made their way a little more quickly down the hall into a storage room. They were halfway to the far door when a shadow appeared from behind the pallet ahead of them.

"Stop!" The voice was female, but Mitch didn't recognize it. Clem must have, because she shoved him down behind a crate and leveled her gun at the newcomer.

She was a bit shorter than Clem, and her hair a lighter shade of blonde, but the two woman looked strikingly similar. Mitch's head swam as the woman stepped closer.

"Dad?" She said cautiously. "Dad, is that really you?"

Confusion slammed into him as he looked from the new girl to Clem and back again. Why was she calling him Dad?

"Who the hell are you?" Clem demanded, her voice shaking.

"It's okay," the woman's voice was still steady and calm as she spoke, though she, too, had her gun the ready. "I'm his daughter. Clementine."

 _Oh God_. Mitch's brain was already pounding from the exertion and his body's acclimation to being out of stasis. This...this was too much.

"You're not Clementine, I am," Clem was saying, and Mitch could see the way her hands shook. "Don't listen to her," she told him sharply. "Let's shoot her and let's get out of here."

"What?" The new Clem took another step forward. "Dad, I came here to rescue you."

"Don't call me that!" Mitch snapped, lifting his free hand to clutch at his head. The pounding was getting worse, and this parent trap nightmare wasn't helping matters.

The woman next to him reached out for him. "Dad, we need to get out of here."

"You either!" He didn't know who to trust any more. Everyone was lying to him. Everyone was lying. He needed space. He needed to think. He shoved himself away from the crates and stumbled away.

"Dad!" Both women cried out, but he ignored them. He needed to get away.

"No, just...just stay back. Both of you!" He waved the gun in his left hand drunkenly, though his fingers was still off the trigger. "Stay back."

"It's gonna be okay," The new Clem promised. "Someone's coming to help."

"I don't need help! I don't need...I need…" His chest hurt as he took a breath and he recognized the beginnings of a panic attack. He tried to clear his head, to slow his breathing, but his thoughts were spiraling out of control and his heart hammered so loudly he could feel it reverberating off of his skull.

He tripped over his own feet and the world tumbled as he fell. He braced for impact, but it didn't come. Hands came from seemingly nowhere to keep him upright, the grip firm but not painful. He glanced up into deep blue eyes, and almost instantly his panic disappeared.

"Jamie," he breathed. She was here. She'd come for him.

"Yeah," she shifted her hands from under his arms to better support him as he stood up. "Yeah, it's - it's me." She was on the verge of tears, and he let himself fall against her in a hug that was both necessity and relief.

Gunshots rang out behind them, and Mitch gripped Jamie tight as he pressed her against the nearest wall to shield her.

"It's okay," her hands ran over his hair and around his shoulders soothingly, "I'm okay. We're okay."

Mitch turned to see his daughter lying on the floor. He cried out and started toward her, but Jamie held him back. "Mitch, it isn't her. _That_ isn't Clem," she pointed to the woman now lying bleeding on the floor, then to the one standing a few feet away, "that is. That's your daughter, Mitch. She was lying to you."

Another figure appeared from behind Clem. This one he recognized, and the anger he'd felt at Gaines returned tenfold. If Jamie wasn't still holding him, he'd probably have punched Mansdale in the face. Again. It was clear from his still ready posture that it had been him who had shot the imposter Clem, and as he took in Mitch's murderous expression he holstered his weapon and held up his hands.

"She was going to shoot," Mansdale drawled. "You're welcome."

"Come on," Jamie tugged at his arm. "We need to get back to the plane. The Shepherds are scrambling right now but it won't take them long to figure out where we are." Mitch resisted, and Jamie slid her hand down his arm to interlace their fingers. "I promise I will explain everything, but we need to go. _Now_."

Clem came up on his other side and gripped his arm. His strength was returning and he didn't have to lean quite so heavily on Jamie, but he didn't mind the additional support. Mitch let them lead him through the maze of corridors until they came to an outer door.

"It's gonna be a little windy," Clem warned him. He nodded and braced himself as Mansdale opened the door and took point. Clem brought up the rear, leaving Jamie to help Mitch cover the distance from the door to the plane. It was maybe fifty yards, but it seemed to take forever to cross the open tarmac. Mitch could feel his heart pounding with each step, fear of being caught by the Shepherds warring with the relief at being _so close_ to getting away from this hellish nightmare.

Twenty steps. Ten. Five. And suddenly the hard concrete beneath his feet gave way to the familiar metallic thud of the plane's ramp. Jamie left him against the rail to man the console, closing the ramp behind them and sealing them away from the harsh winds.

"Clem, take him to the lab. I need to get us airborne."

Mitch felt that he should have had a bigger reaction to seeing his lab again, but all he could focus on was the feel of his daughter's hand on his arm and the feel of the floor beneath him lurching as the plane began to move. It was then that Jamie's words finally hit him.

"Is Jamie flying the plane?" he asked his daughter incredulously.

"No," Clem shook her head and pushed him toward the exam table. "At least, not the way you're thinking. The plane pretty much flies itself, really. She just tells it what to do."

 _Nine years_ , he reminded himself. He'd been gone nine years and apparently technology had outpaced even his best estimates. Auto-flying planes. Stasis tanks. It was almost too much to comprehend.

"Dad?" Clem's soft voice pulled him out of his own head. "You okay?"

"I'm…" He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I'm still trying to figure out what the hell happened back there."

"The Shepherds found you before we did," she answered. "But it's okay now. You're back and -" She stopped abruptly, tears in her eyes, and Mitch reached for her. She sobbed against his chest as her hands banded around his waist.

"Shh," he soothed. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

Clem sniffed wetly and pulled away, defiance in her eyes. "No, it wasn't your fault. You were...you were taken from us. Do you remember that?"

Mitch's memory of his time just before the darkness was spotty, and despite how hard he tried he couldn't recall anything significant. "I can't…"

"It's alright," Clem interrupted. "It might take some time. Let's get you cleaned up and into some real clothes."

Mitch stood up and stumbled, his overworked muscles finally rebelling as the last of the adrenaline drained from his system.

"I feel like a newborn giraffe," he grumbled as Clem righted him. "Those are still around, right? Humans didn't do anything stupid while I was gone, like hunt animals to extinction?"

"They're too busy worried about hybrids to remember real animals exist," Jamie said from the doorway. "Everything alright?"

"Dad wants to get cleaned up," Clem said as she let him attempt to take his own weight, "but I'm afraid he might fall over if he takes a shower."

"I'll take him," Jamie offered, slipping easily under his arm. Her warmth suffused his chilled body and he clutched her a little tighter than was necessary. He'd missed her. It didn't matter that he didn't remember anything; he knew in his soul that he'd missed her. And if her own vice-like grip around his waist was any indication, she'd missed him, too.

Things were different, he noticed as she helped him up the stairs toward the living quarters. The lounge, for one, was no longer a place for a social gathering. The couches and chairs had been replaced with a long, dark table with screens inlaid in the surface and stool-like seats bolted into the floor at even intervals. Screens lined the walls as well, and though the room was dark when they passed it, it was clear that it was more a war room than an lounge now.

The master suite was bare, the wrinkled bedding the only indication that someone was sleeping there. Jamie helped him to the bathroom and sat him down on the closed toilet seat, and as she started the shower, he took the time to study her.

She'd cut her hair shorter and straightened it, though it was starting to wave again from the sweat and dirt that had accumulated during his rescue. Her cheeks were full and flushed and she looked healthy despite the slightly darker circles that were beginning to show under her eyes. He felt a mixture of relief and hurt at that; he never wanted her to suffer another ounce of pain, but it was odd to see her so adjusted and - well - _okay_ in his absence. He could remember those cruel months when he'd thought her dead, how he'd become almost like the dead himself, drowning his anguish in a bottle and trying to figure out how to live without a heartbeat. But, he reminded himself, he'd been gone for a lot longer than a few months. He supposed he should be grateful that she wasn't still in pain nine years later, that she'd apparently found a way to deal with his loss and move on with her life.

Their trek upstairs had been a silent one, and Mitch had been content with her presence on the short walk, but now he needed something more. Now that she was closer he could tell she was hurting, hiding her pain in the menial tasks, and as she passed him to grab towels from the cabinet he snagged her wrist.

"Jamie."

She was still refusing to look at him, her eyes remaining steadfastly ahead of her. Her jaw was clenched tight, and he recognized her attempt to keep from breaking down. He'd always been a selfish son of a bitch, and just the small indication that she might not be as well-adjusted as he'd thought made him feel better. He grunted softly as he stood up, using his free hand on the counter to help him. He shifted his grip on her wrist, sliding his fingers up her arm to her shoulder, then around to cup her jaw. He whispered her name again, and that was all it took to destroy the dam.

She sobbed harshly as she fell against him, and he leaned back against the counter to be able to take her weight without toppling to the floor. She wept loudly into his chest, her fingers scrabbling against his back as she tried to get closer to him. He cried with her, comforting her with hands and soft words until they had no more tears. They stayed there a few more seconds as the heat from the shower began to fog the mirror behind them. Only when he felt steady enough to support himself did Mitch moved his hands from her back down to the hem of her shirt, stopping only ask permission with a glance. She stepped back from him and stripped her shirt in one upward motion before going to work on his jumpsuit. Her movements were slow and caring, and while Mitch felt like doing nothing more than relearning every inch of her, he knew there was no way his body was ready for anything other than a long shower with his wife and maybe a nap.

With their clothes in a pile on the floor, they stepped into the hot spray together. Mitch forced himself to stay on his feet as Jamie lathered up a rag and wiped off the grimy residue of the tank water from his skin. He returned the favor when she offered it to him, and Mitch didn't waste the opportunity to map the skin he used to know so well. There were a few new scars, as well as the large one on her thigh from where she'd been impaled from a chunk of their crashed airplane. It was lighter now, and less jarring against her pale skin - another reminder of how much time he'd lost. His hair was next and he grimaced as she worked the shampoo through the overgrowth on his head and face.

"Not a fan of the mountain man look?" It was the first time either of them had spoken since their mutual breakdown, and he smiled.

"Not really."

"We'll fix it when we're done," she promised, tilting his head back beneath the water to rinse the soap from his hair. She must have seen the exhaustion he was trying to hide because she washed her own hair quickly after his was clean and shut off the water. He reached for the towels before she could get to them, holding one open for her before taking the second for himself. She wrapped hers around her body and disappeared into the bedroom for a moment before returning in flannel pants and a spirit shirt from a high school he'd never heard of.

 _Clem's, probably_. He'd missed his daughter's high school graduation. He'd missed Jamie's debut as an author. He'd missed _so much_.

"Hey," her voice was soft as she cupped his cheek. "Where's your head at?"

"No place good," he told her truthfully. "I'll be okay."

She brandished a small pair of scissors and a pair of electric clippers. She shrugged dismissively when he asked her where she'd gotten them, twirling her finger to indicate he should turn around. He faced the mirror as she went to work, trimming the growth down to the soft shaggy style he'd sported early in their relationship. She didn't speak during her task, her eyes focused and unreadable. When she was satisfied with her work, she offered him the clippers.

"I let you deal with that," she indicated his beard with a nod of her head. "I'll be just outside." He took the device from her gently, hating the slight awkward tension that had sprung up suddenly between them. She left him alone for the first time since he'd come out of the tank, and he was surprised at how bereft he felt. He'd never been one of those people who needed to have someone around all the time. In fact, he loved having time to himself so he didn't have to pretend to be friendly just to make other people feel better. With Jamie it had been different; she had understood his moods almost from the very beginning and knew when to give him space and when he was just being grumpy. But now, as she closed the door behind her, he was hit with the sudden pang of loneliness that made him reel.

He attacked his beard haphazardly, dropping clumps of dark hair into the sink with each pass. He left a bit on his cheeks and jaw, unwilling to take the time to remove it all. If Jamie wanted him clean-shaven, he would deal with it later. Right now he wanted to lie down and sleep for ages, preferably with Jamie in his arms.

She was already under the covers when he turned off the bathroom light and stepped out. She'd left the light on so he could see and there were shorts and a robe lying at the foot of the bed for him. He tossed the robe away and tugged the shorts on under the towel before dropping that, too.

"How are you feeling?" Jamie sat up in bed and turned back the opposite corner for him.

"Better," he told her as he sat down on the edge, facing away from her. He heard her shift and her legs slipped down to the floor next to his as she came to rest against his side. "I'm still trying to process everything."

"We're heading to Montenegro," she told him. "I promised Mansdale I'd take him if he helped me."

"How in the hell did you two end up working together?"

"It's a long story," she shrugged. "The last few days have been…"

"Yeah," he huffed in wry amusement.

There was a beat of silence, then Jamie took a breath. "What happened?"

He knew what she wanted. If he had been in her place and it had been Jamie who had disappeared without warning, he'd want answers too. He just didn't have any to give her. "I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "I remember talking to Dan, then leaving the hotel, and then...nothing. Whoever put me in that tank, they -"

"They didn't want anybody to find you," she cut him off abruptly. "You were in Siberia, at the edge of the world. They kept you away from everything - away from _me_ \- for nine years. I'm going to find out who did this. I'm gonna find out why, and I'm gonna make them pay."

The darkness in her tone was one he was familiar with. He'd encountered it in those harrowing months after her rescue in Canada. He had been afraid then that she would be consumed by it, that she'd never be able to get past it and that it would drive them apart. But it hadn't. They'd overcome it together and come out on the other side even stronger. Hearing it again made him ache for her, for the pain she must have felt at his disappearance, and he reached over to lace their fingers together.

"Honestly, I just want to go home," he told her. "I don't care about hybrids or stasis tanks or shadowy government agencies. I just want to go home with my wife and my daughter and try to make up for so much lost time." She sniffed wetly next to him and when he turned her toward him she was crying again. "Hey," he slid an arm over her shoulders and brought her solidly against his body. "It's okay. I'm here." It took a moment to adjust, but soon they were both lying on the bed under the covers. The lights were still on but Mitch didn't care. He held onto her and finally let himself relax.

"Mitch?"

"Hmm?" He was almost asleep, and he found that his eyelids were too heavy to open any more.

"I love you."

He smiled at that and mumbled what he hoped was an intelligible response in kind. The maelstrom in his mind seemed to finally abate, leaving only a pleasantly warm feeling as he finally drifted off.

 _...Arthur, Cleveland, Harrison, Cleveland again, McKinley, Roosevelt..._


	38. Ten Years Gone - Holding On

Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

Chapter 38: Ten Years Gone - Holding On

 _Mitch's homecoming is delayed by the discovery of a new plot by the Shepherds that threatens to tear their newly reunited family apart._

* * *

Mitch was gone when Jamie woke up, but she didn't panic. Evidence of his presence was all around, from the towel still in a lump on the floor to the depression of his head on the pillow next to her. In the days after his disappearance, she'd had more than a few mornings where she'd opened her eyes, expecting him to be right there in bed, only to be crushed under the despair of the truth. As time wore on those mornings grew more infrequent, until life without him had become her new, terrible normal. She'd learned a long time ago how to distinguished between reality and her brain's hopeful daydreams, and waking up on the plane in scratchy sheets definitely wasn't something her brain would conjure.

Her wardrobe was woefully sparse - just the outfit she'd been wearing the night she'd met Logan at the hangar and a few things Rami had given her. Even her sleep shirt had been borrowed - one of Clem's that the girl had packed hastily for her trip to Germany. She pulled it off of her, slipped on her own clothes and ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. The shorter cut was easier to manage than the fiery mane she'd sported since she was in her early twenties, and it certainly made her morning routine shorter. She glanced in the mirror briefly, then looked at the clock.

They'd been in the air for almost nine hours now, which meant they would be in Montenegro in a short while. She needed to track down Mansdale and find out exactly where he wanted to land, then she'd go find Mitch. She guessed he was probably with Clem getting caught up, and despite the longing she felt to glue herself to his side and never let him out of her sight again, she knew he needed those moments to reconnect with his daughter. There would be plenty of time for them when they went home, but Clem was still working on her degree and Jamie knew it was important for Clem to finish. She would likely return to school as soon things settled down.

Mansdale was lounging in the cockpit of the plane, or what had once been the cockpit. It looked more like a breakfast nook now with a bench seat under the large windshield and a small wooden table that had been bolted to the wall and floor.

"You look comfy," Jamie remarked as she leaned against the open doorway.

He shot her a smug smirk and laced his fingers behind his head. "I'll be even better in a few hours when we land."

"I wanted to talk to you about that. Do you know where we need to go? I just put in the first city that came up on the flight path list, but if there's somewhere specific you want to go…"

"I don't care, so long as I'm inside the border. I'll figure out the rest when I get there."

"What about fuel? We'll need more to get back to the states." She purposefully didn't phrase it as a question, wanting to impress that Mansdale owed them that much at least. He probably didn't; he'd brought Mitch back from Pangaea with him, helped her rescue him from Siberia and even found someone to refuel the plane for her (for free, she added reluctantly). In all likelihood, she owed him, but she would never say it.

"Rami said he'd fill you up one more time," he answered. "He likes you," he added at Jamie's incredulous look. "You remember how to get to his place?"

"I think so. The more pressing question is what the hell do I do with the plane once we get home?"

Mansdale shrugged and laid his head back against the bulkhead. "Not my problem."

It was a curt dismissal, and Jamie left him to his thoughts with barely an eye roll at his antics. She wandered in the direction of the kitchen, knowing that she'd find Mitch and Clem either there or in the lab. They were laughing about something when she walked in, and she smiled at Mitch when he looked up at her. He gestured to the seat next to him, as well as the steaming mug of coffee sitting on the table there. It was such a disgustingly _normal_ domestic thing to do that Jamie couldn't help but kiss him as she took her seat.

"Oh God," Clem groaned. "It hasn't even been twelve hours yet, guys. Can you save the lovey stuff until after we're home?"

"Nope," Mitch said happily, reaching for Jamie's free hand. "I've got nine years of lovey stuff to catch up on." Jamie's heart fluttered as he lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles, earning another groan from Clem.

Jamie cleared her throat and took a sip of her coffee, unsurprised to find it sweetened the way she used to like it. She took her coffee a bit more bitter these days but bit down on the comment that sprang to her lips, unwilling to remind Mitch _again_ just how long he'd been gone. Clem picked up the conversation, easily continuing where she'd left off when Jamie had come in. She was telling Mitch about her high school senior prank, and Jamie found herself grinning at the memory as Clem told the story.

"We were the class of '23 right? So we rounded up twenty four chickens from Sam's farm and put bandanas on them with numbers one through twenty five, skipping twenty three. The teachers had rounded up all of them by lunchtime, but no one could find the one with twenty three on its back. So they dismissed us all early and spent the rest of the day searching the school for a chicken that didn't exist."

Mitch tilted head back and laughed with Clem. "That's pretty good. I think my class did something, but I wasn't a part of the 'in crowd' so I can't really say what it was. Jamie?"

Jamie swallowed her mouthful of coffee and cast her memory back to her senior year of high school. "I, uh…"

"Oh, come on!" Clem begged. "Please?"

Jamie sighed. "It was a tiny town in rural Louisiana," she told them. "Our graduating class was in the low double digits. We didn't have enough people to pull off a really big prank. I think a few of the boys let their goats out onto the football field, and some of us filled the principal's office with balloons. That was it."

"That's pretty good," Mitch said. "Good," he repeated, his tone now oddly distant. Jamie turned quickly to see his brow wrinkled in confusion. "Good…good...pretty..."

"Mitch?" Jamie's heart pounded as she shoved her chair away from the table and stood. Mitch reeled back in his own chair, his body listing to one side like he was dizzy. Jamie reached out to steady him, bracing him against her own body as she reached for his pulse. It was racing.

"Dad?" Clem had come to his other side, her eyes wide and fearful. She glanced at Jamie for answers, but Jamie didn't have any.

"Mitch?"

"Pretty good," he repeated one last time. His whole body shivered once, and he shook his head softly as his eyes refocused.

"Oh God," Clem whispered. "Is he having a stroke?"

"Mitch?" Jamie crouched down to look in his eyes. "Mitch are you okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed out heavily. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay," he repeated, looking up at Clem. He stood on shaky legs but regained his footing as he marched over to the counter where a clear bowl of M&M's sat. Clem had already picked her way through them, leaving only two colors.

"It's not a stroke," he told them, "but it is brain related." He dumped the candy out onto the counter and separated them into two piles. "I can talk for now, but we've got to move quickly because the brain is like a pinball machine. One area gets stimulated, it affects another." He finished his sorting and pointed to each pile in turn. "Blue, and those are red., right?"

"We need to get you to a hospital!" Jamie tried tugging on his arm but he shrugged her off.

"Just answer my question, please," he snapped. "Red and blue, yes?"

"Yes."

"I think there's pressure on the speech center of my brain," he explained. "I've got to find out what's causing it." Pressure in any part of the brain wasn't good, and Jamie felt her heart skip a beat. She'd just gotten him back; she couldn't lose him now. "We need to get in there," he concluded.

Clem balked. "What do you mean 'get in there?'"

"I mean get in there," he pointed to his temple.

Jamie weighed the options. They could continue to Montenegro and find a doctor, hopefully one skilled and knowledgeable enough to help. But if there was pressure in his brain, it could likely burst at any moment, or start pressing on other parts of his brain and cause some serious damage. They didn't have hours. They might not even have minutes. She made her decision.

She opened drawers until she found what she was looking for - a small handheld drill. "Let's do it."

"Are you really gonna perform _brain surgery_ with that?" Clem cried, her worry and skepticism coloring her tone.

But Mitch just smiled. "That is _exactly_ what we need."

"There's probably some anesthesia in the lab," Jamie told him. "We'll need to use a local so you can stay awake." She tried to squash down the part of her that was screaming inside, telling her to wait and get him to a medical professional. There were so many things that could go wrong, it told her. But Mitch was looking at her proudly - confidently - and she took a deep breath. If he believed she could do it, then she could.

They all went down to the lab, Clem protesting the entire way. Finally Mitch just turned and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Listen, I know this is scary. But if we don't relieve that pressure, I could die before we reach Montenegro." Jamie saw Clem grimace, then her bottom lip trembled once, twice, before she took a breath and nodded. "Good girl. Now I need you to go over there," he gestured to the cabinet in the back, "and find a small halo. It looks like a metal collar about the size of a large cantaloupe with a thumb screw on one side." She went on her task as Mitch turned back to Jamie. "Where's the medicine?"

"I'm not sure," Jamie told him. "I don't know how well Logan stocked the plane."

"Logan?" Jamie heard the sharp disgust in his tone and realized she hadn't yet told him the story of how she'd found him. "What the hell does Logan have to do with any of this? With you?"

"Okay, can we talk about this after I perform major brain surgery with a drill?" Jamie bit back. She knew she had no right to snap at him, that his attitude was justifiable even, but she was already nervous about this whole thing and she didn't feel like explaining it all right now.

"Fine," he growled. "Just start looking." They searched on opposite ends of the lab for a few minutes before he opened the refrigerator. "Ah ha!" he exclaimed. "Here we are." He pulled out the ones he thought they might need and began filling the syringes Jamie had found. She was glad he was doing it; if something went wrong she had no idea how much to give him and she wanted to be ready for anything.

"Found it," Clem returned with the halo and Mitch's smile was thin as he took it from her. With the help of a mirror and Jamie's nimble fingers, they had it around his head and in position in a matter of minutes. He hooked himself up to the monitors and began instructing her on the local anaesthesia and where to inject it as Clem sterilized the drill.

"You can do this," Mitch told Jamie as she donned gloves and took up the syringe. She forced her hands to stop shaking as she placed the tip of the needle on the point Mitch had indicated. She saw him stifle a wince as she slid the needle into his scalp, her thumb depressing just a little to deposit some of the medication. She repeated the action a few more times, each in a different spot on his head, and waited.

"Okay," he said after a few minutes, "poke me with the needle."

"What?"

"Just to see if it worked," he told her. "I don't want you cutting into my head if I can still feel it." She did as he asked, but he didn't respond. "Good. Okay, now grab the scalpel."

"I can't watch," Clem turned away, her voice green and weak. Jamie ignored her, took a breath, and made the incision. She bit down on the queasy feeling that rose in her throat and concentrated on the outcome. They were saving Mitch's life, and she could deal with a little blood and gore if it meant she didn't have to watch him die. It bled - a lot - but Mitch told her it was nothing to worry about.

"Head wounds bleed," he explained. "Just wipe it away with that cloth." She did, and then used the halo to pry the flap of scalp away from his skull. It was gray white underneath the flesh, speckled red from the blood she'd wiped away.

"Okay," he looked in the mirror they'd set up so he could watch the procedure. "That's great. Now for the fun part." Jamie set the scalpel down and reached for the drill. "Grab a mask. You don't want to inhale bone dust." She did, tying it behind her head but not yet raising it over her face. "Okay, drill firmly but evenly," Mitch instructed. Jamie wondered how he could be so calm. He was letting someone with zero medical experience drill into his skull, and he was acting like he was walking her through something simple, like changing a tire. "Just until the skull pops, then turn it off. Do not drill too far." She thought she might have heard a quiver of uncertainty in his tone, but his face gave nothing away.

"Until the skull pops," Jamie repeated. "Got it."

Clem scoffed. "Got it. Like this is no big deal."

"Hey," Mitch called. "Come here." Clem shuffled over, every line her body tense and fearful. "This is gonna be fine," he assured her. "Tell you what. When it's all over, since you're an adult now, we'll go have a beer."

"I already had my first beer when I was fourteen."

Mitch grimaced. "Not a fan," he shot at Jamie. "You gave a fourteen year old a be -" The monitor Mitch had hooked himself up to began beeping rapidly, and Jamie could see he was struggling with the words.

She shouldered Clem out of the way and fastened the mask over her mouth and nose. "We need to do this now."

She pulled the trigger on the drill and raised it to his head. She had expected her hands to shake more, or for her stomach to quell, but faced with the real possibility that he could die right there in front of her steadied her mind and body in a way that nothing else had. She kept her eye on the screen, at the bright image of Mitch's skull and the brilliant brain beneath it. She could see the drill where it pressed into the bone, feel the vibration as it worked beneath her hands. It didn't take long, and the moment the drill penetrated his skull she cut the power and pulled the drill back, looking at Mitch expectantly.

There was silence for the span of two heartbeats, three, then, "Good." The sound of his voice released the tension in her shoulders, and she set the bloody drill aside and grabbed the small video camera attached to a wire. On another screen, Jamie saw the lab through the lens of the camera, and as she grabbed the wire the image moved rapidly to keep up.

"Here we go," she told him. She slipped the small end into the hole she'd created and carefully pushed it forward. The screen displayed the sickly gray matter of Mitch's brain, and she heard Clem take a deep breath as though fighting a wave of nausea.

"Okay," Mitch's eyes were also on the screen, and he directed her to the area he wanted. "To the left," he said. "A little bit left." She moved the camera. "Your other left," he drawled, zeroing in on something small and cylindrical. "Right there," he lifted a finger as Jamie settled the camera right in front of it. "What is that?"

Jamie shrugged, but Mitch couldn't see it. His eyes had closed, fluttering under their lids as if in a nightmare. "Mitch?" she called, but he didn't answer. He took a breath, then another, and his eyes opened. "Mitch, say something."

He cleared his throat gently, licked his lips, and spoke in a tone much lower and rougher than before. "Whatever it is, it looks artificial."

"Then let's get it out," Jamie said, reaching for a pair of forceps.

"No," he stopped her with a word. "That's a live current. We don't know what kind of brain damage will occur if we extract it."

Jamie set the forceps down quickly. Brain damage was bad. "Okay," she said. "What do we do?"

He rattled off a list of instructions that sounded ludicrous to her ears, and she'd seen him cobble together some impressive stuff with almost nothing. She left him hooked up to the equipment at his request on the premise that it would be easier if they didn't have to cut him open again. Jamie agreed, but covered the opening with a clean cloth to keep dust and dirt out in the meantime.

Mansdale wasn't happy with their change in plans. "We had a deal," he growled. She saw his fingers twitch and wondered if he would make a grab for the tablet. He didn't, but she could feel the anger rolling off of him in waves.

"Look," she spat, "if we don't land right now and get what we need, Mitch will die."

"Why can't we get those things when we get to Montenegro?"

"We don't have time," Jamie explained, keying in the sequence that would land the plane on a remote stretch of road in southwestern Russia. They were still hours from their destination, and Jamie wouldn't take the chance. "Look, this won't take but a few hours. Fewer if you help."

Mansdale growled again, then sighed. "Fine. What do we need?"

"I'll get the battery and the lollipops. Clem's going to find some velcro somewhere. Which leaves the pig for you."

"A pig?" he exclaimed. "Like a _pig_ , pig?"

"Yep," she smiled. "Any pig will do."

They landed with little fanfare, and Jamie checked on Mitch one more time before they set off on their tasks. He looked like he was resting, but she knew better. There was no way he'd risk going to sleep with a hole in his head and a strange device attached to his brain. She turned to go, scuffing her shoes on the floor, and his eyes opened. For just a moment she saw the fear in them, the terrified thoughts that he had been keeping well hidden from both her and Clem. She offered him a smile, a small one full of promise, and he tried to return it. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but she could see the love and trust he held for her. It was enough to spur her forward, to get the things he needed to make this right so they could finally go home.

It took longer than she'd planned to get everything together, and in the end she'd had to help Mansdale with the pig.

"You couldn't find a smaller one?" she grumbled as she wiped her face, leaving a streak of mud behind. At least she hoped it was mud. The pig squealed in protest as Mansdale slipped a rope around its neck and the two humans began shoving it toward the truck.

"You wanna complain or help?" Mansdale shot back.

"I can do both," she smirked. "Okay, here we go. One, two, three." They lifted the animal into the rear space of the SUV. The pig scrambled for purchase on the slick surface and finally fell over on its side. Jamie felt bad, but if it saved Mitch's life then it didn't matter. Still, she hoped he could do whatever it was he was going to do without hurting the pig too much.

The pig squealed and grunted the entire ride back to the plane. Clem was already back and was speaking in low tones to her father. At their entrance, both looked up with matching expressions of curiosity.

"Don't ask," Jamie said firmly, leading the pig over to the cage next to Mitch. Mansdale shut the door and locked it before turning to Jamie expectantly.

"Well?" he asked, obviously ready to get back in the air.

"When we're done," Jamie barked. "Go find something useful to do."

Mansdale snarled and stalked away. Jamie wondered how long it would take him to get tired of the delays and just leave. She hoped it was sooner rather than later. She turned back to Mitch with an eyebrow raised in question, her meaning clear. _What's next?_

"The pig's brain structure is similar to a human's," he said once they'd rigged up everything according to Mitch's instructions. "So by connecting it to mine, we can flash the device and make it safe for removal."

Clem looked around at the pig, the battery, the cables and the velcro. "So I kind of understand all this other stuff, but why the lollipops?" She held up the bag.

Mitch reached for them eagerly. "Oh, those are for me," he said happily. "For after."

Jamie laughed. "Let me go get some sedatives." She wasn't going to expose the pig to any more pain and distress than it had already been through. The procedure Mitch had explained might kill it anyway, but she couldn't bring herself to do it to a still conscious animal. That would just be cruel. She heard Clem pick up her conversation with her father as Jamie walked away, but they were too far away to hear what they were saying.

It took almost half an hour to set everything up just right. Jamie checked and double checked that everything was exactly the way Mitch had described. All that was left was for her to complete the circuit.

"Okay," he said finally. "Connect the cables to the battery. It'll engage."

Jamie grabbed the jumper cables and connected them, black first, then red. The device whined, powered up, then sparked. The battery popped loudly and Jamie shielded her eyes for a second before quickly grabbing the clips off the posts. She glanced at Mitch but he seemed fine, then her eyes fell on the screen that was connected to the tiny camera still in his head.

"Well that's not good," she said. "The current just exposed it." She leaned in for a closer look, hoping it wasn't what it looked like. But what lay underneath his brain matter and the small tube was undeniable. "It's a bio-drive," she spat. "It's Shepherd technology."

"How do you know?" Mitch asked.

"Because I spent enough time on the Shepherd sites to know what one looks like. The guy who created it...he's a nasty piece of work. Last I heard he was serving life in prison for crimes against humanity."

"Okay, well, let's just get it out."

Jamie shook her head. "Any tech they created is dangerous. We need to know exactly what it does before we get it out of you. And I know just who to ask." She stalked away from him purposefully, resisting the urge to just yell for Mansdale.

"You know I can't go with you, right?" Mitch called after her, but she kept going.

She found him in the nook at the front of the plane, but rather than his easy going demeanor from earlier, now he was surly and unhelpful.

"You know, this wasn't part of the deal," he snarled.

"Deal's changed. You want a flight to Montenegro? Help us."

"I have helped you. I have done nothing but help you since the moment you let me out of that cage." He stood up and leaned in, the two or so inches he had on her made him seem larger in the cramped space. "And I'm done helping you until we get to Montenegro."

"How do I know you won't just run off the moment we land?"

"You don't," he straightened. "But the way I see it, you don't have much choice."

Jamie opened her mouth to speak, but a quiet beep from a wall panel in the corridor interrupted her.

"What's that?" Mansdale peered over her shoulder as she inspected the source of the beep.

"I don't know." Jamie reached out and pressed a large button in the center of the screen. It changed instantly to show the exterior of the plane, and several armed men approaching. "That's not good."

"Hunters," Mansdale whispered. "They found us because of you."

"That's really not important right now," Jamie turned from the panel and bolted down the hall. "The outer doors are sealed, but it won't take them long to breach if they brought the right tools. I need to get to Mitch and get him unhooked."

They raced down the stairs to the lab. Mitch turned his head as far as he could without disrupting the equipment.

"What's going on?"

"We have visitors," Jamie said. "Clem!"

"Here!" The girl came out of the conference room. "What's wrong?"

"Hunters," Mansdale barked. "They found us."

"You mean you," Clem shot back. "It's you they want."

"And probably Jamie, too," Mansdale smirked.

"Jamie?" At that Mitch did try to move, but the velcro held him firm. "Why would they want Jamie?"

She began unhooking him from the pig and the battery in an effort to make him more mobile. If the Hunters breached the plane, they wouldn't hesitate to take down anything they deemed a threat to get to Mansdale.

"It's a part of that long story I haven't told you," she said. "Right now I need to get you closed up and out of this chair." But she got no further. The back door that led from the lab to the vehicle bay slid open, and Jamie whirled in surprise. There was no way they could get in that way unless…

"Hello, Jamie."

 _Unless someone had the code_ , she finished silently. "Logan." She squared her shoulders. "How are you?"

"Better now that I'm out of that jail cell in Guatemala." He leveled her with a hard stare, then swept his eyes past her and onto the man behind her. "Mitch?" She almost laughed at the expression on his face.

Mitch just stared back blankly. "Logan."

"I heard you were dead."

"Rumors of my death were only mildly exaggerated," he drawled.

"What are you doing here?" Jamie asked.

"Oh come on," he raised his eyes in a muted roll. "You don't think I had a tracker installed on this plane? We've known where you were since you left Guatemala." Jamie's eyes cut over to Mansdale the same moment he glanced at her, and she knew they were thinking the same thing. _Rami._

"Mansdale," Logan stepped up and raised his rifle at the other man. "You're under arrest." Three more men stepped out from behind Logan and moved toward the former Shepherd. Mansdale took a step back, then another, ignoring the shouts for him to lay down. Jamie saw the moment he made his decision, winced when he turned to run and gunshots took him down.

"No!" she darted forward to where he lay face down. "Mansdale? Can you hear me?" She could see his dark jacket covered in blood, oozing from three neat holes in his back. She looked up at Logan hotly. "Damn you! I needed him!"

"For what?" Logan's men pushed Jamie away as they collected the body. "Just another Shepherd that got what was coming to him."

"Look, someone put something in Mitch's head, a biodrive. I needed Mansdale to find out just what it is and what it does."

"I can help," one of the men still at the door raised his hand. He removed his mask with his free hand and smiled. His hair was more gray than black now, and his green eyes sparkled with a humor that was incongruous with the situation.

It took her a moment for her tongue to catch up to her brain. "Robin?" She hadn't seen him since he'd dropped her and Mitch off outside the base in D.C.

"The one and only," he nodded. "How are you?"

"Been better," she told him honestly. "You're a part of this?"

"Since the beginning," he affirmed. "You remember what I told you about our Initiative?"

Robin had been a part of a group like the Shepherds, who had been bent on preserving the natural world from the destructive influence of man. But unlike the Shepherds, Robin's group hadn't resorted to attempted genocide. It seems their focus had shifted in the last decade.

"How's Bruce?"

"Dead. He didn't survive the gas." Robin glanced around and finally saw Mitch. "Doctor Morgan, it's good to see you're still among the living."

"Can we save the reunion for later?" Logan snapped. "Jamie, I need to talk to you."

"Not until Mitch is -"

"I will take care of Doctor Morgan and the biodrive," Robin promised. "I'll find out what it is and how to remove it safely. You have my word."

Jamie stared him down for a moment, assessing his intent, but found no deceit in him. Finally she nodded. "Mitch?"

"Is there much of a choice?" he grumbled. "You go have your little powwow with junior. I'll stay here." She could tell he didn't like it, but it was like he'd said. There wasn't much of a choice.

She followed Logan up the stairs to what had once been the lounge. It looked more like war room now with the dark wall paneled with screens and the long table. He set his rifle down on the edge of it and pulled out a chair for her. He took the one next to it.

"Listen," he began, "I don't blame you for Guatemala. I probably would have done the same thing. But I want to tell you - for the record - that I would have helped you get Mitch back."

"I didn't even know he was still alive until Mansdale told me," Jamie said. "Did...did you know?" There was a hard edge to her tone that promise violence, and she saw Logan lean away just a fraction.

"No," he shook his head. "Not really. I had heard rumors of something in Siberia, but I didn't know it was Mitch. I swear. If I had…"

"What," she huffed humorlessly, "you would have told me? We both know you've never really liked him."

"Hey, I'm pretty sure the feeling's mutual," he shot back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, obviously reining in whatever volatile emotions had bubbled up. When he opened them, he looked calmer, more in control. "I didn't come here to fight. Or even to toss around blame. Like I said, I would have done the same. I came here because I - because we need your help."

"The Hunters need my help?"

"We're not Hunters," he reminded her. "We work for the IADG; like a black ops team," he explained. "We do the stuff that they can't exactly advertise."

"Like kill Shepherds in cold blood?"

"He ran," Logan sniffed. "I'm not going to apologize for taking out one of the Shepherds' ring leaders. We've been after Mansdale from the beginning." He took a breath and slipped a small tablet from the cargo pocket on his leg. He tapped the screen and typed in a code she couldn't see to unlock it. A few more taps, then he laid it on the table.

The image showed a woman, probably mid-twenties, with light brown hair just brushing the tops of her shoulders and a flat smile. "This is Brittany Mason," he said. "We've been tasked to find her and bring her in, but she's eluded us."

"And you want us to find her?" Jamie asked incredulously. "Even if we could, why would we?"

"Because you owe me," Logan said simply. "While I can forgive and forget, my bosses...they're not so enlightened. They wanted me to bring you up on charges for what happened in Guatemala. I convinced them that it wasn't worth the effort, that you could even help us."

Jamie understood what he wasn't saying. "So it's either help you find this woman and arrest her or go to jail? Gee, not much of an option."

"Don't forget about Mitch," Logan pressed. "The IADG would love to hear he's back among the living. I'm sure I can convince my squad that they didn't see him, but only if you help us."

Jamie hated this whole situation. All she wanted to do was take Mitch home and hide away from the chaos of the world. They'd done enough for humanity; they were due some peace after all of it. But fate seemed to have other ideas. At every turn there was another wrench in the plan, another challenge to overcome.

"What will happen to her?" Jamie tapped her fingers on the table just next to the screen. "Brittany. What did she do?"

"She stole something from Reiden Global, something they desperately want back. I don't know what it is, but my bosses want us to find her before they do. A few mercenary teams have already been dispatched; the sooner we find her, the safer she'll be."

Jamie felt her jaw clench at the mention of her old nemesis. They were slowly rebuilding their global empire, clawing their way back from the ashes that Jamie had been sure meant the end of them. But as always, money talked, and Reiden Global had a lot of it. They were once again at the fore of the corporate pack, dipping their greedy fingers in whatever they could. The latest reports said they were throwing their substantial weight behind solving sterilization and contracting with the government. If Reiden wanted Brittany so badly that they were willing to risk being exposed by mercenaries, then Jamie wanted to know what she knew.

"Okay," she said finally. "But I won't lie to her."

"Of course. Just convince her that she'll be safer with us, that we can protect her from Reiden."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Not exactly," Logan tapped the tablet a few more times, switching the screen from the picture of Brittany Mason to a world map. Five blips blinked across the globe, three in North America, one in Mexico and one in Europe.

"She's got resources," Logan explained. "But there aren't a lot of places she could get without our noticing. She's likely still in America, but she has family in Mexico and France. Start with these three," he indicated the red dots hovering over three separate cities in the midwestern United States, "and then head to Mexico. We'll give you as much fuel as you need."

"Commander Hale," a voice called from the hallway. "Robin needs you in the lab."

Jamie jumped up first and beat him out the door, brushing by the young man in black fatigues on her way to Mitch. Robin was removing the halo when she came in, and he gave her a placating smile when he looked up.

"He told me to," he began, indicating Mitch, who was trying to stand. Jamie came up on his side and helped him to his feet, steadying him for a moment before letting go.

"I'm fine," he told her.

Jamie spit questions at a rapid pace, her old reporter skills rearing up in the face of the unknown. "What's going on? What about the biodrive? What did you find?"

"Easy, Jamie," Mitch put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's talk in the kitchen. I need a sandwich."

Robin and Logan followed them, the former rattling off what he'd discovered as Jamie kept a keen eye on Mitch. "The drive in his head is an obsolete one, Biodrive 1142. It was Shepherd tech, designed to network human thoughts to a collective consciousness, but it was a failure."

"Why was it a failure?" Jamie didn't like the sound of any of this.

"Because all of the test subjects died after three months of having the drive put in."

She looked sharply at Mitch. "You took it out, right?"

Mitch grimaced. "Ah, no. There's a little catch to this gizmo," he tapped the side of his head gently. They made it to the kitchen and Mitch started assembling a sandwich as Logan and Robin posted up at the door. Jamie leaned against the counter waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Mitch didn't elaborate, she cleared her throat and called his name gently. He turned to her with a pained expression.

"Robin found the data from the experiments with the Biodrive. Everyone who had the drive removed lost all of their memories. Complete amnesia."

"So if we remove it you forget all of us - me, Clem, your mom, everyone."

Mitch nodded solemnly. "And if we leave it in, it'll kill me."

The information floored her, and she walked over to the table and sank down in a chair. Mitch finished making his sandwich, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and then took the chair opposite her. Logan and Robin busied themselves with something on Logan's tablet as Mitch reached across the table for her hand. She gripped his tightly, tears fighting their way up through the frustration and despair. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't they just have their happy ending? Why did the universe hate them so much?

"Hey," Mitch pitched his voice low to keep the other two from hearing. "We're going to figure this out. Robin found the schematics and put it into sleep mode, so whatever it's supposed to do, it can't. We'll find a way to get this thing out. Okay? "

"Mansdale could have helped us," Jamie swiped the tears from her eyes with her free hand. "If Logan's team hadn't killed him, he could have helped."

"I don't think so," Mitch bit into his sandwich, chewed, swallowed and continued. "See, the program that created this drive was scrapped thirteen years ago."

"Then why did the Shepherds put it in you?"

Mitch took another massive bite and washed it down with a sip of water. "I don't know," he said finally, "but it might have something to do with Blue Diaspora. That's what the Shepherds back in Siberia wanted to know."

"What is Blue Diaspora?"

"I have no idea," he admitted, "but they seemed pretty sure that I did. Robin said this thing connects a human brain to a collective consciousness, so maybe it's something I had access to while I was connected to whatever network they hooked me up to."

"And you can't remember any of it?"

"No," he finished his sandwich and brushed his hands off on his jeans. "But I'm gonna find out."

It felt like too much. Jamie closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, praying that when she opened them this would have all been a horrible dream. But if it were a dream, her mind reasoned, then Mitch wouldn't be here when she woke. No, this was still better. At least she had Mitch now. They could handle whatever the universe threw at them, just as long as they were together.

"Okay," she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. "You should know that Logan wants us to track down someone. Brittany Mason."

She saw Mitch's eyes cloud with a dark emotion at the mention of their ex-friend. Even though he was standing just feet away, Mitch didn't bother to hide the derision in his tone when he answered. "And why would we do that?"

"Because if we don't, I'm going to jail. I ditched him in Guatemala and got him arrested by local authorities so I could steal the plane and come find you." Mitch's eyes bugged out, and she thought she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips, but then it was gone. "Plus he's handling jet fuel, which is stupid expensive."

"Well then, I guess we don't have a choice. Where to -"

He stopped mid-sentence and pitched forward suddenly, his eyes rolling up in his head. Jamie shouted his name, getting Logan and Robin's attention. They came over and helped lower Mitch to the floor as Clem came flying through the door.

"Dad!" She fell to her knees and shook him. "Dad!"

Jamie's heart felt like it was being ripped out. He was dying. That thing in his head was killing him right in front of her, and there was nothing she could do about it. His name burst from her lips in a sob as she clutched his shirt, begging him to stay with them.

"He's okay," Robin said after a few seconds. "He's still breathing. Just blacked out, I think. Too much stress on his brain."

Behind his eyelids, his eyes danced back and forth as if in a dream. He began to stir and Jamie supported his head as he came to.

"Mitch?" she carded her fingers through his hair, noting the slick sweat accumulating around his temples. "Mitch!"

Jamie pushed back on his shoulder to keep him down when he tried to sit up. "I...I remember where I was…" he rasped. "I know where I was when they put the biodrive into my head." Jamie felt his chest rise and fall through a hard breath, and then he was pushing to his feet. "We have to go there."

"Whoa," she grabbed his arm and steered him toward a chair as Clem went for a glass of water. "Easy," she focused on him to keep the tremble from her voice, "you blacked out."

"Mexico," he said. "We need to go to Mexico."

"Kind of a big place," Clem said as she set the glass down on the table. "Any place specific?"

Mitch took a small sip and closed his eyes. "Yucatan," he said after a few seconds. "It's...a small cabin in the north."

"You got a city?" Logan had been hovering at the outskirts, listening intently to everything they were saying. Jamie wanted to throw him off the plane again.

"No, Lionel, I don't," Mitch growled. "But if we go there, I can find it. I know I can."

"Alright," Jamie stood and led the group to the lab. The small device that controlled the plane was still on the table where she'd left it. "We can check out Mitch's thing and then go look for Brittany," she told him. "We'll just have to check Mexico first. And we're gonna need fuel."

Logan didn't look happy, but he didn't argue. "Get us to Ankara," he said. "We'll refuel and resupply there."

Jamie typed in the coordinates and felt the rumble of the engines as they began to power on. She grabbed Mitch's arm and helped Clem get him to a jumpseat for takeoff as Logan and Robin went in search of the rest of their team.

"Do you think it's a great idea to bring him along?" Mitch jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the retreating Logan.

"Maybe he'll hop off in Turkey," Jamie said hopefully. "If not, we'll figure something out."

"You could always just throw him out of the plane again," Mitch joked sleepily, his energy finally draining from him like a battery slowly losing power.

Clem's head whipped around toward Jamie with an incredulous expression. "What?"

"He had a parachute," Jamie defended, not bothering to give her the rest of the story. "Get strapped in." She waited until Mitch had buckled his shoulder harness securely before she took the seat next to his. "Next stop, Ankara."


End file.
